Assassin's Creed: Loyalty of the Heart
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: Nathaniel Coles is a courier who distantly admires a merchant's daughter. Catherine Robinson holds a secret fondness for the courier in her father's employ. Edward Kenway is the Assassin who just wants to rob another courier satchel. And, an ancient artifact is the unlikely key that entangles the three together.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes:_ I often wondered why Edward was so against training his daughter, Jennifer, in the ways of the Assassin, and this little work of fiction is my way of explaining his reasoning. As I was writing this, my thoughts were that this adventure takes place in the time before Edward goes up against Roberts and after all Edward's friends have left this world. Because my memories of the game and the Oliver Bowden book are a little sketchy at the time of this story, I apologize for any continuity errors.

With that said, I hope I have adequately captured the spirit of Assassin's Creed, Edward Kenway, and the island of Nassau during the waning days of the Golden Age of Piracy.

 _Disclaimer_ : I make no money from this fond and inspiring past-time of mine. I do not own Assassin's Creed or Edward Kenway and his kin. However, I do lay claim to the members of the Robinson household, Nathaniel Coles, and the villains who antagonize them.

 _Summary_ : Nathaniel Coles is a courier who distantly admires a merchant's daughter. Catherine Robinson holds a secret fondness for the courier in her father's employ. Edward Kenway is the Assassin who just wants to rob another courier satchel. And, an ancient artifact is the unlikely key that entangles the three together.

 **Assassin's Creed: Loyalty of the Heart**

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 **The Courier**

Paradise. That's what the merchant recruiters he talked with in London had promised him. They claimed there was a vast beauty in the Caribbean that was unmatched anywhere else. They told him that the Bahamas had all manners of temperate climates, white sand, amazing azure skies, crystal waters, and a sea breeze that carried a never-ending fresh scent across the beaches. They, apparently, forgot to mention the humidity, the mosquitoes, and the pesky ocean life that washes in with the waves, only to dry up and die on the beaches, leaving a stench that never quite fades from one's nostrils.

Taking in a breath, twenty-two year old Nathaniel Coles removed his tricorne hat from his light-brown hair and wiped his brow, his hazel eyes squinting at the mid-afternoon sun. It really was a paradise here, but just not during this current heatwave. Two months ago, spring was finishing up its cycle, and there was still a dryness to the air that convinced him to sign on for another six months in the employ of the merchant guild as one of their couriers. Little did he know at that time that the humidity would roll in and take up permanent residence in Nassau.

But, for all the private mental griping that Nathaniel did about the weather, he truly had no regrets about staying. His first mission after taking the six-month contract had brought him to the home of one of the modestly wealthy merchants on the shores of Nassau. Alexander Robinson, was a wise businessman who made his fortune trading cloth and sugar and was always certain to provide adequate wages for the work that Nathaniel did for him.

While Nathaniel was grateful for the payment he had been provided, he worked hard to maintain his employer's good graces for another reason. On one of his first visits to the Robinson home, he passed by a small parlor where his eyes had caught the briefest glimpse of the one thing that made him endure the humidity, the mosquitoes, and the rotting sea life: Catherine Robinson, the twenty-year old daughter of Alexander and Sarah. While he had seen her briefly in passing moments since then, he had never been able to forget that first happenstance when they had no more time to spare than merely catching each other's eyes.

Even to this day, it felt like a dream sequence that would never fade. Catherine had been seated on a high-backed chair, a vision in dusty pink that Nassau could only replicate in the evening sunset during the aftermath from a gentle rainstorm. Nathaniel reminisced for a moment on the way her blonde hair had been pinned up in a loose bun atop her head, and the long strands that had fallen free tickled along her shoulders, daring his eyes to roam towards the smooth skin of her bosom. If he was a lesser man, Nathaniel may have done just that and kept his attention on the curves of her breasts, but at that moment, her eyes had shifted upwards from the book she had in her hands, and whatever breath had been in him had been expelled in a rush. Their eyes caught, and all he could see in that moment was the softest brown-shaded irises he had ever encountered. Her gasp was the only thing that had broken the spell he was under, and with an embarrassed apology, he hurried on his way.

Any other moments they had in passing were even less of a moment in time. Nathaniel's eyes were always drawn towards her presence, and a spark of excitement would course through him. However, Catherine could never offer anything more than a sparing glance before turning away, as she was always in the presence of her parents or the family's servant, Martha, who played the role of Catherine's chaperone.

Nathaniel sometimes wondered if pursuing Catherine was a fruitless attempt, as her father had an adequate suitor prepared for her months ago, but the man fell prey to a tavern fight. While her father had not brought forth any other suitors since then, it was foolish of Nathaniel to think otherwise, as a woman of Catherine's status could not possibly be permitted to share in a relationship below her wealth and especially not with one of her father's employees. Still, the thought of seeing Catherine – if only for a brief and distant moment – was motivation to remain dutiful to his employer's tasks and keep the correspondence moving between merchants.

Setting the tricorne hat back upon his head, Nathaniel adjusted his side-slung messenger bag on his shoulder. He prayed that the ocean breeze would do its job and send a wave of relief across the island soon. It had been three days now of this constant stifling humidity, and the mosquitoes could not possibly grow any larger with the amount of blood they had eaten from the islanders and visitors in that time. In fact, he was wondering how those buzzing pests had managed to stay afloat in the thick air, considering how heavy they must be with their over-stuffed stomachs.

 _Bloody parasites_ , he thought, meaning it in the derogatory way but couldn't help the smirk that crawled over his lips at the ironic truth of his unspoken words.

Then, his eyes caught sight of Catherine in the distance as she walked, and he could not help but stop his mental complaining. Her hair was up in its usual loose bun, her neck exposed to the air in the hope she could keep herself cool. The sleeves on the dress she was wearing stopped mid-way down her forearms, and Nathaniel briefly wondered if she was coping with the heat better than he had been. However, that thought was cut short as his eyes were drawn to her white dress that was patterned in burgundy trim, tailored from a material that he imagined would have become a set of curtains in someone else's hands. Yet, on Catherine, the patterns gave her dress an air of aristocracy, and it reminded him just how far down the status ladder his existence hung.

Unable to stop himself, he watched as Catherine moved throughout the vendor stands with her mother. They paused at some of the stands that sold trinkets, smiling and talking for brief moments with the owners of those shops, seeming interested in the goods on display. Then, the two of them made a deliberate pause in their wanderings when they reached a particular fruit stand, and the owner began to ramble quickly through his deals and specials, hoping to make a sale to a rich customer.

Nathaniel found himself captivated as he watched Catherine suddenly laugh at the jokes the vendor was putting into his sales pitch, and a flush of embarrassed heat passed over his cheeks when he realized he was staring like a lost schoolboy. However, that moment was short-lived as he caught sight of a thin man dressed in a torn and faded green-colored, long overcoat with a matching hat that hid the wearer's hair, obscuring the face in shadows. Suddenly, it seemed that time had stopped – but not in the way Nathaniel would have wanted. Moving as quickly as he could, he was just not fast enough to catch the pickpocket from taking Catherine's purse. In an instant, the green coat blended into the crowd, and he heard Catherine shout in anger. She spun as though to give chase, but her mother's hand strongly clasped the young woman's arm, and she was imprisoned to her place at the vendor's stand.

Running past Catherine and her mother, Nathaniel spared one quick glance at the pair. Catherine locked her eyes onto his with the softest look of gratitude in them, and a sensation of warmth exploded in his chest. Fueled by the hope that he could retrieve Catherine's stolen belongings and bathe again in her kind expression of thanks, Nathaniel sped through the blur of the crowd, his focus narrowed down to a long coat of faded green.

 **The Assassin**

Moving about the rooftops, the Assassin paused in a crouch and let his eyes take in the streets of Nassau below him. The heavy, brown leather of his robes that hung towards the back of his legs had settled onto the tiles of the roof, making a slight clacking sound that could not be heard over the din of the busy marketplace. However, he had heard it, and he mentally scolded himself to be more careful next time, especially if he didn't want to get into another scuffle. While there were no guards along this perimeter, he couldn't guarantee that he would have this kind of freedom in the next vicinity of roofs, and he was hoping to avoid a conflict while he was lost in his ruminations.

Unfortunately, it seemed that getting into physical altercations was just his way, and he had a feeling today would be no different. He was growing restless again, despite the need he had for his own respite. It seemed that the longer he stayed with his own thoughts, the more he wanted to keep moving from them.

Rubbing his hand along his chin to give him something to do, the Assassin realized that the white hood upon his head had been a saving grace, reflecting off the heat of the sun. He was still unable to avoid squinting against the reflection it produced from the waters in the distance, but he could definitely see a dark cloud line hovering a number of miles out in the ocean.

Trying to forget about the humidity that had been suffocating Nassau these past few days, the Assassin had considered leaving his leather-bound protection on the _Jackdaw_ in his captain's quarters more than once. Unfortunately, he knew that with the dangers he encountered, to do so would end in either painful injuries or death. And, right now, Edward Kenway preferred to be counted amongst the living.

His thoughts began encroaching again during this rooftop isolation, and he allowed them to enter while he was in a lull from the life he had come to know. The past few years had been hard-lived, and while there were some amusing moments in them, he wasn't sure he wanted to go through those kinds of experiences again. He had lost comrades and friends, and he still had his promise to Mary that he had made upon her death. He had decided that he had to see this through to the end and rectify whatever transgressions he had committed. He just hoped he would not see it through to _his_ end. He still had a lot to atone for with his mistakes at Tulum, and he still felt he needed to prove to the Assassins that he had finally chosen to accept his place amongst them with the utmost sincerity.

In the meantime, his crew had needed a break from the hard pace of the last few months. While his island of Great Iguana could provide his men with all the women and rum they could desire, Edward was drawn back to Nassau, as it was a bustling hub of activity that was better suited for providing the most current communication.

Logical arguments aside, Edward could only hope that Nassau was the key to resolving the Templar problems sooner rather than later. He tightly held onto the hope that he would return to Caroline soon, and the faster this Templar business was righted, the faster he would be in her arms once more. It was through sheer willpower at the thought of seeing his wife again that he had distracted himself from the courtesans who were eager to part him from his hard-earned fortune. He wanted that money to go towards a future with his beloved Caroline, after what he hoped would be a happy reconciliation. He still had the dream that they would live in a fine home and raise children to bear her intelligence and his recklessness.

Edward smirked silently at the thought of children taking after the two of them. He tried to imagine young boys and girls outsmarting Caroline and himself while free-running over staircases and banisters. Unfortunately, the image was short-lived, as Edward knew he still had a long way to go before he could return to Caroline. He had promises to keep and Assassins who depended on him to right the wrongs of his own reckless youth.

With that thought, Edward felt the weary restlessness course through him once more. He was not an idle man, and while he could quench his annoyances and desolation with ale and rum, he just had no desire at this current time to waste away his day and night at the bottom of a lonely mug.

Standing up to stretch his legs, his eyes caught sight of purposeful movements through the streets below. A flash of pale green pushed through the crowd and following behind him was a man in a white shirt with brown pants and boots, a light tan jacket, and a dark brown tricorne hat.

Edward recognized the uniform of a merchant's courier, and as he watched the satchel bounce along the man's hip while he ran, the Assassin smiled beneath his white cowl. The restless youngster he was that still resided within the lonely man he had become finally had something to think about other than his own sorrows. And, right now, he liked the idea of pirating a courier's satchel. It was more than just the Reales that the courier carried. It was the secrets of the merchants and captains, and with such documents, Edward might finally get the lead that he had so desperately wanted on something related to the Templars in order to finish his work here and return to Caroline.

Skimming along the rooftops, Edward Kenway plotted a course parallel to his prey below, keeping his attention on the courier moving along the streets. His boots flew him from one rooftop to another, and the robes of his long coat floated behind him, catching the breeze that had finally picked up. Evening would be coming in a few hours, and with it Edward could smell the salt of that storm he saw out over the sea. The humidity was finally going to break, and it would be the perfect time to use a few stolen courier Reales to enjoy a much-delayed drink while he was reading through the secrets that the courier had been carrying.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes_ : I spent about an hour one evening watching a youtube video of the Black Flag cut scenes in the hopes that I had done well to capture Matt Ryan's speech patterns in Edward Kenway's dialogue. May you enjoy this tale as it slowly unfolds, and I hope I am doing justice to the Assassin's Creed mythos.

 _ **Chapter 2**_

 **The Confrontation**

Nathaniel ran and kept the thin, green-cloaked man within sight. He no longer thought about the humidity or how much his clothes were soaking up his sweat from his movements. He needed to get Catherine's belongings back to her, and while he thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye on a rooftop, he did not have any time to spare by dividing his attention. His quarry was just a few yards ahead of him, and he refused to be distracted and lose him.

Without any warning, Nathaniel felt his body violently pushed to the ground, and he was momentarily out of breath more from being startled than actually being knocked down. He did not even remember falling over, but as he looked before him, he saw the blur of a green coat disappearing behind the corner of a building. He tried to squirm out from beneath the boulder of weight upon his back, his arm reaching forward as though he could will the thief back to him.

"Damn it!" he shouted, landing his fist onto the ground.

Edward pushed his hand on the courier's back to keep him in place. He had effortlessly jumped from the roof above and used the momentum of his falling to bring the courier down in one sweep. Now he just needed to keep the man pinned down long enough to take anything and everything of value. He'd really rather not have to kill the man this time, but if he was left to defend himself, Edward was certain he would be the one to survive.

"Now, now, lad," Edward said calmly, with a stroke of humor in his voice, "No need to be damning anyone anywhere."

Nathaniel watched the people around him scurry into other directions, leaving just him and his attacker alone in the back alley. It was typical of people to not get involved. It seemed no one wanted to help anyone anymore, and Nathaniel briefly wondered if this was a set-up. He could see easily how the man in green could be part of a larger thievery organization, and the man on him could be the one who coordinated the attack.

"There's no decency left is there?" Nathaniel grumbled, as he was rolled over onto his back. His eyes caught sight of his attacker, and all he could see was the smug grin under a white cowl.

"Best for you to get used to the ways of Nassau, mate," Edward teased, as he rummaged one hand into a pocket on the man's coat. His fingers brushed over a book, and he suspected the courier had something of special value in his pocket, as opposed to his satchel. "Around here, a man makes his own decency."

Nathaniel clenched his fist and shifted his weight to send a punch into his mugger to stop him from taking the one thing he held of value, but stopped short when he heard a strange metal click and felt the cold steel of a blade against his throat. "What the…?"

"Well, now, you've got some courage, I'll give you that," Edward said, the smile not shifting from his voice.

"Whoever you are, you can take whatever money I've got. All I want to do is find that thief and get back the possessions he stole from my employer's daughter," Nathaniel reasoned, as he opened his hands and set them out near his sides in surrender. "I'll probably lose my employment, but it would have been worth it to make her smile."

Edward felt his head tilt involuntarily in curiosity. He realized it was becoming rare to encounter ordinary people who were willing to sacrifice their employment or their lives for another. What caught his attention even more, though, was that when this courier had referred to _my employer's daughter_ , his hazel eyes glinted with a sincerity that was unusual in its own way.

"Which trade snake employs you, mate?" Edward asked.

"Why?" Nathaniel responded harshly, "Are you going to steal from him, too, or just kill him?"

Edward took breath and retracted the blade he had on the man's neck, aware how this young man held the kind of noble intentions that would get him killed. "Jeez, lad."

Nathaniel moved to push his attacker away, but the man instead shifted so that his knee pressed into his chest. Breathing against the pressure, he forced the words, "Go to Hell."

"Well, now, it seems we are again at an impasse," Edward said, shaking his head. "I'm trying not to kill, you, lad."

"You could have fooled me," Nathaniel bit back softly.

Edward remained calm and studied this courier's hazel irises, looking for clues in them. "Let's start again. I chase down you couriers for the secrets you carry, and whatever money I can get. I don't much care for wasting my time on you blokes, but there is something to be said for the activity of it. Now, initially, I wasn't planning on talking to you, mate, but you got some moral code I can't quite say I've seen in the likes of your type before."

"You've hurt and killed some good men, you insane pirate," Nathaniel argued. He had known a few of those men that this pirate boasted about killing, and a couple of them had the same intentions as he did. They just wanted a decent wage in order to make a better life for themselves.

"So then, the hard way," Edward smirked. He reached into the courier's jacket again and found the small journal his fingers had brushed against earlier.

Nathaniel began struggling, his arms flailing to get the book back, and he felt like a schoolboy being bullied. "That's not for you!"

Edward pressed his knee slightly harder, and the courier was forced to give up the fight, taking a breath instead. The Assassin started flipping through the pages of the journal and then his eyes caught one page in particular. His hooded smile widened. "Well now."

Reading out loud, Edward recited the words on the page he saw:

" _With one look you take my heart.  
With one breath you have my life.  
With one hope I will be your confidant.  
With one touch I would be your protector.  
With one kiss I would seek happiness from nowhere else.  
With you, I would be complete."_

"Those words are for someone else," Nathaniel defended in anger.

"Aye, let me guess. They are for your employer's daughter that you wish to make smile," Edward said, closing the book and replacing it in the courier's pocket.

Reaching forward, Edward removed his knee and grabbed a handful of the courier's shirt and jacket. He stood up and brought the younger man with him, helping him to his feet.

Nathaniel thought about wrestling against his captor during the change of positions, but he had no idea where that blade went that was against his neck earlier, and all he could see was an armament of guns, a set of paired cutlasses, leather armor, and a cylinder of a peculiar design sticking up from his attacker's back.

Moving instead with the hooded pirate, Nathaniel got his legs beneath him as he stood and asked in defeat, "What do you want now?"

"I told you I didn't want to kill you, mate. What say you and I share a drink and talk like men," Edward replied, laughing genuinely at the look of bewilderment that came across the courier's hazel eyes. "Aye, you're more like me than I could care to admit. So, indulge me in your story, lad, and give me a reason to not send you to back your employer with an empty satchel."

"Bloody pirates," Nathaniel muttered, seeing he had no choice and hoped his deliveries could wait just a little longer. "You're all crazy."

 **The Parallel Stories**

Unable to relax his guard, Nathaniel sat at the table inside the crowded tavern and remembered what it was he hated about these places. It smelled of watered down alcohol, sweaty bodies, and fresh blood. He wondered if any of these people had any decency left in them. It seemed all they did was fight, get drunk, physically please each other, and then repeat it all the next day. He found it most refreshing when many of them left on excursions for trade or whatever piracy most of these people did.

Nathaniel took a nervous sip from the tankard, hoping he could nurse the watered-down rum to keep from getting drunk. He wondered at what point Master Robinson would be telling him to find employment elsewhere. He had never abandoned his duties before, and if not for that pickpocket taking Catherine's purse, he would have finished delivering his parcel of letters before the heat of the afternoon would have rendered him into needing a nap.

He tried to spare a look at the clock on the far end of the tavern, near the weathered barkeep. All Nathaniel could see was that the mid-afternoon had passed into the three o'clock hour, but he could not discern how deep into this hour it was because the minute hand was obscured by dimly-lit movements of a shoulder-baring female who sat on the bar, laughing at the man who had slid his hand along her leg to disappear beneath her skirt.

Edward pushed his white cowl back off his face and took in the scene around him. To him, it was bittersweet in a twisted way. It was in a drunkard state that he had made his first impression on Caroline, and he had worked for a long time to amend that, but it seemed he was just far too brash to give up this kind of toxic lifestyle. How she had put up with him for so long, he would never understand, but it must have been proof that he had won her heart because if she was not truly in love, she would have left him long before he decided to depart his home to take on the life of a privateer.

The Assassin's eyes surveyed all around him in quick moments – a skill he had developed over the last few years. He was aware of the courtesans on the opposite side of the tavern from them, keeping the sailors occupied and spending their coins. The old man behind the bar reused the same rag to wipe out the tankards before refilling them with more rum or ale, depending on the patron's request. The middle-aged fiddle player near the doorway had somehow managed to entice a young, red-headed woman to sing for him.

Taking a hearty gulp of the rum in his tankard, Edward finally started the conversation with his new-found acquaintance. "Aye, we're over-due for introductions, mate. Most of the men here know me as Edward Kenway, but I've been captain of the _Jackdaw_ for a number of years, so I prefer the respect of being called 'Captain.'"

The courier looked into the darkness of his mug. "I'm Nathaniel Coles, and I suspect you've gotten me unemployed by now, Captain."

Edward sat against the back of his chair and looked at the young man who sat across the small table. The courier's light brown hair was pulled into a black ribbon at the back of his neck with a multitude of strands falling free or too short to reach to the ribbon. His square-shaped face did not have a chance yet to show any signs of wear, and he lacked any marks or scars. This Nathaniel Coles still had some boyish features, and Edward could imagine that he had caught a few lasses' eyes while passing through the streets of Nassau.

"You're a serious, lad, aren't you?" Edward asked.

"I know being a courier has its risks," Nathaniel offered, "But, I had hoped that the income I earned would be enough to move me up in status just a little."

"In order to be with your employer's daughter," Edward pressed.

Nathaniel felt the wave of defensiveness rush over him, thinking that maybe this Captain Kenway's intentions for Catherine would not be so noble if he mentions her by name, and the courier pushed his hands flat on the table moving to stand so he could leave.

Suddenly this Captain Kenway was standing with him, and that blade appeared under his throat again. "Whoever she is, she strikes your protective nerve, doesn't she, lad?"

Nathaniel was aware of the sudden silence around them in the tavern and how everyone's eyes had turned to him. The string of insulting curses he had heard the sailors around him using ran through his mind but never reached his lips because he was just raised better than that. Unfortunately, the sudden attention had exposed him as a courier in a tavern full of pirates and other shifty characters, and unless he could calm this situation down, he was about to be torn apart for whatever secrets and credits were in his satchel.

"Why do you care so much about a lowly courier's admirations for a woman?" Nathaniel asked quietly, raising his hands openly before him in surrender.

Edward pulled the blade back into the sheath at his wrist and motioned for his acquaintance to sit again. "Because, mate, I know your situation."

The crowd in the tavern saw that the captain of the _Jackdaw_ had everything back under control, and they resumed their activities, leaving the two men in the corner to themselves. Nathaniel followed the examples of those around him and returned to his seat. He studied this Edward's blue irises and saw some truth in them, and then he felt a pang of remorse when the pirate's faraway longing broke that perpetual smirk off his face.

Taking another full drink from his tankard, Edward set it on the table and leaned forward. "Aye, lad, I loved her the moment I saw her. My Caroline gave up her life in privilege for me – going against her father's wishes – and we married. Me, I was but a lousy husband and could never give her everything she deserved. When I left her it was to become better – a privateer – who would return with a fortune so she could have me as a worthy husband. Aye, instead I found myself in a life of piracy and more. Now, I have obligations and promises I must fulfill to others. But, one day soon, I plan to return to her a rich and changed man."

Nathaniel pulled the mug from the table to his lips and held his breath as he took a large swallow. He coughed and sputtered a little on the rough liquid, but it was the most refreshing drink he had in a long time because someone finally understood his torment.

When he did finally speak, his voice was tight, showing a confused gratitude because this Captain Kenway could sympathize with the confusing pain of feeling emotions that were unrequited due to family statuses. "Catherine. Her name is Catherine Robinson."

Looking up and seeing he had Edward's undivided attention, Nathaniel pushed forward with the story of how he met Catherine and how she had unknowingly captured his heart. He explained that he wrote the poetry in his journal in the hopes that one day he might share his words with her. He was protective of the journal where such sentiments were written because those words were his salvation. Nathaniel then brought up the pickpocket having taken Catherine's purse earlier in the day and that he was on his way to retrieve it from the pickpocket when Edward jumped on him.

"I know I didn't imagine that look in her eyes when I ran past her this morning," Nathaniel breathed softly, "And all I wanted was the opportunity for her to offer it to me once again."

"So, I'm guessing her father is Alexander Robinson," Edward offered before taking another drink.

"Yes, he's a merchant of cloth and sugar, and the occasional case of tobacco," Nathaniel finished with a nod and a sip of the rum from his tankard. "He's a good man, and a good employer. I am far from worthy of Catherine, but there has been no one else that I have ever met who even remotely stirs my heart in such ways."

"Yours is a tricky situation, lad," Edward agreed. "But, not entirely undoable if you make yourself determined enough."

Nathaniel looked at the pirate with suspicion. "What do you suggest?"

Edward laughed finally, as the memories of his mischievous beginnings with Caroline came to his thoughts. "Aye, I'll start with finding that pickpocket of yours. You go deliver your parcels like normal business."

"And, just what will this cost me?"

"For now, mate, just information," Edward explained. "You keep your ears and eyes open when you move about your merchants and their business partners. Keep a listen out for anything regarding an artifact, a Sage, or an Observatory."

Nathaniel tilted his head in curiosity. "That's it? No blackmail and no robbing me of my hard-earned money?"

"Aye, lad, information is all," Edward confirmed. "I've got my own debts owed, and information is what will settle them."

"Should I even ask what these items are?" Nathaniel asked.

"It would be in your best interest not to know, mate," Edward warned. "Don't ask questions if you hear a discussion, and just absorb what they say."

Nodding silently, Nathaniel agreed. "I won't ask then. But, if I find something for you…"

"Nassau isn't all that big. I'll find you," Edward interrupted. "Now, go on and get your errands done."

Nathaniel did a quick scan into his satchel to ensure that Edward Kenway had not taken anything while they were in their scuttle earlier. He thumbed through the stack of tied letters, confirming that they were all accounted for and no one here in the tavern had sticky fingers when his attention had been elsewhere. Bringing his eyes up again, he saw that he was alone at the table, and Kenway was nowhere to be found. Nathaniel realized suddenly that he never heard the pirate leave, and as he saw the eyes of the patrons in the tavern around him, he wasted no time sliding out from the chair he had been sitting upon.

Hurrying into the still-sunny skies of Nassau, Nathaniel felt a heaviness in the air that he had learned foretold of strong weather arriving in the coming hours, and he needed to be quick if he wanted to avoid the storms.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes_ : This chapter was one of the first turning points in the story, despite the fact that it is more character build-up and background. From my original vision of a fluffy match-maker kind of tale, this chapter brought forth the start of the conflict that our characters are involved within, and I'm glad the story took the turn it did. I hope you enjoy!

 _ **Chapter 3**_

 **The Merchant's Daughter**

The weight of the metal was familiar, and the cool handle of the hilt fit comfortably as it moved of its own life. The lessons were not complicated, but they were an outlet to relieve frustration and anger. Seven years ago, the foundation of basics had been laid, and over time intricate footwork and flourishes with the weapon had been added. There was a dance to it, a balance of the body and blade moving in fluid motions, becoming one entity.

In this hidden place, she breathed away the anger, focusing solely on her movements, feeling her white dress swirl around her. While she was forbidden to prove such merit with her skills amongst the populace, she was unrestrained in such private spaces and could imagine herself fighting the injustices of the things she could not correct publicly. And, right now, Catherine Robinson was fighting a green-cloaked pickpocket who ran off with her purse. Even though the money she carried was inconsequential and of a minimal amount, it was the violation she fought – the very nearness of someone who dared to take from her without permission. If that thief needed to feed a starving family or children, Catherine would have gladly donated provisions to him. She was not unreasonable – just angry that she had let her guard down and lost her possessions.

Losing sight of her surroundings had nothing to do with the forced humor of the seller at the vendor stand, for Catherine had learned to make a show of her status and present herself as an endearing rich girl. She was trained to ask questions about merchandise she had not seen before as well as give vendors the impression that she was looking to buy unnecessary trinkets. Her father had taught her from a young age to feign laughter around merchants and give it an air of authenticity, even when it is absolutely false. These were all part of the many business lessons her father had instilled in her. Thinking about the situation earlier in the day, Catherine concluded that it was not the street vendor, but the hooded shadow on the roof that had caught her eye and distracted her.

She had only seen one other such occurrence of a shadow moving across a building when she was around eleven years old and was visiting the heart of London with her father. At that time, she had dismissed it as a trick of the light and shadows, as it was very unlikely that anyone would be wandering about a rooftop in the dusky grays of evening. However, seeing such a phenomenon again had been a distraction that caused her to lose her bearings of the streets around her, making her easy prey for one of the many thieves of Nassau.

Catherine brought the sword around her again, and she thought briefly about her three older sisters all living their quiet lives in the familiarity of their native England while she had gone on an adventure with her family to this island. Catherine's sisters had married with no interest in more than the future of being a wife and mother, but she had ambitions of greater intent. Because Alexander and Sarah had no sons for whom the trading business could be inherited, Catherine took it upon herself to shadow her father with the intention to do more than be married off into a simple existence. She knew that legally she could not own the business, but she planned to manage it, regardless of what her future husband would say. Alexander had been hesitant at first to give Catherine such responsibility, but she refused to be dissuaded, and by the time she was twelve, her father was teaching her the responsibilities of maintaining business ledgers on top of the academic lessons that her tutors were providing.

Catherine continued in her ruminations while she was in the midst of her practice, feeling the weight of her blade pass before her. She then followed it up with a two-handed lunge into the imaginary man in her mind. When she brought the blade back, she rotated her wrist and spun her body around, resuming with the movements that she had learned from her sword masters and thinking back on how her father had allowed her to take fencing lessons when she was thirteen. However, by the time she was fifteen, she sought another sword master and secretly paid him for lessons that would aid her in real life situations. During that time, she had started developing unusual marks and cuts on her arms that were not consistent with fencing wounds, and she had done her best to hide her wounds by altering her clothing. But, Alexander was persistent, and he found ways to investigate her lessons. When he had discovered what Catherine had done and that she was no longer learning what was considered "lady's fencing techniques," her father removed the sword master from her employ and took away a large portion of her spending allowances. He treated her as an employee while he taught his business lessons harder, and put a hold on the funds to which she once had access, providing her wages instead for the work she did in his employ, in the hopes that she would forget the foolishness of training with a sword.

By the time Catherine was entering her eighteenth year, she had secretly found another sword master, and because that sword master was a woman, Catherine had learned techniques more suited to her size and agility. They had only trained together for about a year when the sword master suddenly disappeared. However, despite her mentor's absence, Catherine felt confident enough to put her skills to practical use. There was an evening when she saw two men beating on a mother and striking her very young son. Unable to ignore such an atrocity, Catherine stepped in to defend the mother and child, not realizing that they had run off in fear over the men who had been hurting them. Catherine wasn't certain she could handle the two attackers, but she knew that she could not back down from the fight, especially when she didn't want them to harm anyone else again.

By the time the constable had intervened, the two men had reworked their narrative, making Catherine the aggressor because the mother and son were no longer present to collaborate Catherine's story of attempted heroism. What Catherine didn't know at that time was that the men who had initiated the beating were underlings of a greater organization that had bought the constable's and the magistrate's loyalties. In order to keep Catherine from going to prison, Alexander had been obligated to pay a large sum to the magistrate and was forcefully persuaded to leave England. Knowing it was his best chance to preserve what little fortune he had left, Alexander had moved to Nassau with Sarah and Catherine, choosing to run his business from its source in the Caribbean.

Breathing in frustration at the events that had led to her father's exile, Catherine started into a complicated maneuver, slicing the sword before her at an angle that would have cut a man in half from shoulder to hip. Then, the face of the courier that her father had employed entered her thoughts, and she momentarily lost her concentration, nearly falling. At the last moment, she caught herself, and landed with her knee hitting the dirt of the floor.

Taking in a heavy swallow of air from the exertion Catherine had put upon her body for the last hour, she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she took a calming breath, letting her eyes adjust once more to the dim light from the torches upon the walls. This abandoned dungeon she had found a short distance from her home had become her solace for when she could not be the free spirit that she knew she was.

Standing, Catherine set the sword into the sheath that had obediently stood against the wall, and she thought back to that first day that her father's courier had stumbled across her sitting in the parlor. She had been wanting to read through the journal of the sea captain that had just returned from his latest journey, but her father had given her a copy of Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew" to read instead, reminding her that it was her ill-fated attempt at heroism that had forced them from their home. With a slightly joking manner, Alexander told Catherine that she probably could relate to the Katherina in the story and that she had better behave herself while they lived their "exile" in Nassau.

Deciding to read the story to relieve some of her boredom, she had become engaged in some especially sharp-witted lines of insults between Petruchio and Katherina. Then, slight movement from a brown-shadowed man outside the parlor door had momentarily distracted Catherine, and when she looked up, her breath had caught, as she had no idea how long the courier standing there had been watching her. As her eyes met his hazel irises, she barely saw the flash of a kindheartedness that she did not believe existed any longer. Before she could even ask him his name, he had begged her forgiveness and disappeared down the hallway.

She had spent the weeks after that, seeking a glance of him from the distance whenever they had passed on the streets, and she maintained propriety by not interrupting him while he awaited her father's directives in his office. Catherine had continually made efforts to remain in her father's graces so that she could sneakily listen to the conversations he shared with his courier and learn more about him and his past. Over the course of time, she had acquired the knowledge that this courier's name was Nathaniel Coles and that he had come from a humble family that once owned a farm. Currently, he was staying at the barracks on the edge of town where most of the merchants' employees lived.

Then, during this afternoon's theft, the way his eyes caught hers and grabbed them while he ran past her in the market had sent a shiver through her. Without a single word, he had revealed that he wanted to do the right thing, and the kindness in his eyes was something she had seen so little of in recent years. It was in that brief moment the most she could share with Nathaniel was a grateful hope that he would be successful in returning her belongings because she had been forbidden to use her skills to do so herself.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Catherine heard a distant rumble of thunder and realized that going to her lookout tonight was out of the realm of possibilities. While her father suspected she spent her time in this dungeon, she had never told him about the alcove on the hill near her home that gave her a view of the sunset over the ocean. It was the one place on Nassau that she kept entirely secret from everyone she knew, and she intended to keep it that way, as it was the one place she could daydream and feel free.

Reaching up to the torch on the wall, Catherine took it in her hand and used it to illuminate the abandoned hallway as she walked. She needed to return to her home before that storm struck and before her chaperone investigated her whereabouts. She had kept her promise to her family that she would not involve herself in any public disputes, and she did not want to tarnish her family's reputation again. She never understood why the magistrate who listened to her case had denied her from using her skills to help others, but in order to prevent further injustices against her family, she had remained Alexander and Sarah's obedient daughter, despite how Nassau offered plenty of temptation for someone who was compelled to do the right thing.

 **The Morning Chase**

Crouched low in the early light on the precipice of the high church in Nassau, Edward took in a deep breath and drank the refreshing salt air as though it was an expensive wine. The storms that came through the night before were violent and angry. All the citizens of Nassau had disappeared off the streets, and those without homes had found shelter in their secret hideaways that they used only for such purposes. Even the hawk that usually roosted on the perch of the edge of the tower's peak had taken shelter somewhere inside the belfry, as there were feathers and droppings tucked neatly into a corner.

After departing the tavern and leaving Nathaniel Coles to his own devices yesterday afternoon, Edward had worked with his crew to secure the _Jackdaw_ into its berth. While some of the crew decided to weather the storm on land, Edward and the rest of his crew's repairmen stayed with his ship during the night. The damage had been minimal, just as Edward suspected. The _Jackdaw_ was a good and hearty ship, and she had given them adequate shelter.

Scanning his eyes carefully over the island of Nassau, Edward spied a number of palm trees that had been bent downward from the strong gusts while others had been snapped in half. Houses were missing sections of roofing, and the citizens had already begun to start their repairs. Large puddles settled onto the streets awaiting the warm sun to evaporate them.

Watching dawn break over the horizon, Edward could see that there was a clarity in the air that had not been present for a number of days. The sky had a sharper hue, and the darkness of the night fading into day held a defined band of color that was a rainbow in its own right. The haze had lifted, and with the new sharpness in the air a breath of life had rolled into Nassau. The citizens were slowly trickling their way back onto the streets, and Edward shifted his attention to remain on the lookout for a particular light green long-coat with a matching wide-brimmed hat.

His eyes were not disappointed, as the man in the green coat appeared amongst the citizens that were assessing the damage to their homes or businesses. Edward kept a careful vigilance on this pickpocket, studying his patterns and assessing his movements. The green coat brushed closely near each target, never touching them, and his hand remained hidden within the folds of the coat. There was a sleight-of-hand to his technique, and within a few moments, he had walked away from at least three bewildered citizens who were desperately seeking their stolen Reales.

Standing up and stretching his legs, Edward used his eyes to mark the cart of leaves that was his intended target. He closed his eyes to the fresh salt air and let the world around him disappear while he concentrated on that small place below. His instincts pushed him forward, and he leapt off the precipice feeling for that moment of pause. Whatever this gift was that Mary had told him he possessed always knew how to slow his descent just before he impacted with his landing point.

Feeling the leaves gently suck him into their grasp, Edward had the sensation that he had landed on a cushion of air. Pulling himself out of the cart, Edward ran forward in the direction where he last saw the pickpocket. A flash of green caught his eye, and he climbed upwards onto the rooftops for a better view. Just as he saw the pickpocket moving down another street, he caught the sight of a guard yelling at him from across the rooftop to get down. Not finding any reason to kill the man for doing his job, Edward also didn't need him interfering in his tailing of the pickpocket.

Pulling the blowpipe from his back, Edward sent the sleeping poison into the guard and kept moving, noting how the pickpocket below had stopped his thievery. The man was now moving with renewed intent towards the back entrance of the brothel. He knocked twice and was let in by a figure silhouetted in the shadows.

Edward considered his options and saw the ropes reach across from the brothel to the building he was standing upon. Concentrating on his balance, Edward ran the distance across those ropes and landed silently on the roof of the brothel. He climbed down to the balcony on the second floor and entered through the window into the empty room. Moving silently, he stepped across the bedroom in which the bed was still in disarray from the previous client.

He heard footsteps moving towards the door and paused, looking for somewhere to hide. Finding that there was nowhere else to go, he moved towards the window and jumped out of it, landing flat onto the balcony. He peeked his head up just enough to look into the window and saw the flash of the green coat. Ducking again, he kept silent and below the window ledge, listening carefully to the conversation inside.

The first voice was male, and most likely a few years older than Edward, based on the deep tone and evened rumble. " _Ah, my trusted pickpocket has returned. What have you brought for me today_?"

The man in green spoke next, but to Edward's surprise the voice was not that of a lanky man, but instead of a female who was highly confident in herself. While she spoke, Edward heard the sound of material being shuffled around as though searching for something within the green coat. " _The fruit vendor slipped this into my hand as I went by. He said we would be very interested in its contents._ "

After the sound of paper being torn had quieted and a few moments passed in silence, a grin could be heard in the man's voice. " _He was not mistaken. We are well aware that Alexander Robinson had bribed his way out of London and that his daughter had managed to escape imprisonment for her crimes against two Templars. But, what we didn't know until today is that_ Mother's Pearl _had returned two days ago and with it a very special shipment of cargo. It seems Master Robinson has taken it upon himself to secure something of interest_."

" _Is this the shipment we have been waiting for_?" the woman asked, her words carrying an air of eagerness and expectation.

There was a dissatisfaction in the man's reply. " _He does not say specifically, just that there are suspicions of the cargo we are seeking. Apparently, Captain Jordan had gone missing shortly after Robinson had received_ Mother's Pearl's _manifest and paid the captain for the journey_."

Light-sounding footsteps shuffled, and Edward surmised that the female pickpocket was now pacing the floor. " _This is a setback we didn't expect. Robinson has betrayed the agreement_."

" _I know_ ," the man replied. " _Robinson made a bold move, and he has just given the Templars a reason to renew their interest in his family. Perhaps he was too naïve to realize that we were still maintaining watch on his business transactions. If he is not willing to work with us, then we will see to it that he finds it in himself to cooperate. It's time to make our presence known again to the Robinson family._ "

Abigail's voice grew stern. " _You do what you will with her parents, but I have my own interests in Catherine._ "

" _I know you do_ ," agreed the man, " _And I will continue to honor your wishes so long as she does not interfere in any of my…._ "

Suddenly a new voice exploded, interrupting the conversation between the pickpocket and the man in the room, but it had nothing to do with them, as it echoed from the ground behind Edward. "Hey, you…pervert!"

With the words aimed at Edward, he rolled over and saw the gray-haired madam who owned the brothel standing in the yard in a bright, scarlet-dyed dress that was hard to ignore. She was looking up at him through the latticed bannister, and her shrill voice could be heard over the entire island of Nassau. "You want a show, you go inside and pay. Now get down from that balcony before I…"

Edward didn't need further prompting. He scurried from his position, his eyes taking note of the dark-haired man in the equally black outfit, his open shirt revealing a scarred but well-toned man. The _Jackdaw's_ captain caught sight of the red Templar cross hanging against the man's skin, and as Edward turned around from the window, the man muttered, "Assassin."

However, Edward was faster as he climbed onto the roof, disappearing in the morning light before the Templar and his pickpocket could exit onto the balcony and look for him. Scurrying along the rooftops, Edward realized that Nassau had other Templar activity going for it than the complications of a Sage and an Observatory. There was also more happening with the Robinson family than what appeared on the surface, and Edward knew it was up to him to understand just how the Templars were involved. Such matters were beyond the simple obligations of a courier, and poor Nathaniel Coles would never know how to survive the Templars if he pursued Catherine Robinson.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's notes_ : I had made some last-minute rewrites on this chapter, striving for more historical accuracy in some of the details as well as smoothing out some of the writing. Plus, I had to rework this chapter and the next a little more for continuity. I promise that the artifact will have its introduction in the next chapter. Until the next update, please enjoy!

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 **The Reprimand**

Nathaniel held his tricorne in his hand as he stood within Alexander Robinson's business office and occasionally shifted his attention towards the older man as he was seated behind his desk. His gray hair was pulled back from his face in a dark blue ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his face was angled downward so that all Nathaniel could see was a wrinkled brow that was concentrating deeply on the letter the older man was intently writing.

There was a scratching sound quietly echoing throughout the office, with an occasional pause as the quill was dipped into the inkwell before being moved once again over the parchment, pressing the ink to it with flourishes and strokes. Nathaniel continued to stand quietly with practiced patience, as this was not unusual for Master Robinson to allow him into the office before he had finished his correspondence or to have Nathaniel wait while he replied to someone else's.

While the brown-cloaked courier was familiar with the office from his many visits to it, he still allowed his eyes to roam the room, glancing over the cushioned seats in front of the desk awaiting guests and browsing the shelves against the walls stacked with books. Nathaniel could remember many times in the past trying to read the titles of the books before Master Robinson was finished writing, and he had made it into a kind of game in which he had to read as many titles as possible before his attention was required. There was one day when he had gotten as far as half-way through the second shelf, and that had been his record so far.

Feeling the breeze coming in through the open window, Nathaniel welcomed it and realized that he didn't have the attention required to push further past that second shelf of book titles. In fact, he couldn't wait to be back outside in the beautiful summer day, as something about the weather had been beckoning him to enjoy its warmth and freshness. It was a harsh contrast to the storms last night that had been particularly dangerous. Lucky for him, Nathaniel's barracks on the outskirts of town had been built to sustain all kinds of weather. He was especially relieved, though, to see that the Robinson home had taken no damage, with the exception of a few tree branches littering the property.

While Nathaniel continued to breathe in the freedom that was just outside the open window, he kept trying to listen for Catherine somewhere in the halls behind him. Just the thought of catching her voice echoing throughout the house caused a wave of excitement to ripple within him. Hoping again for that remote chance of being interrupted by her presence, Nathaniel could only wish silently that she would one day intrude on them while he was awaiting his directives from her father.

Catching the sound of the parchment being folded and carefully set within an envelope, Nathaniel brought his attention back to his employer, watching as Alexander dripped a careful portion of melted wax onto the envelope's folded flap. Pressing a metal stamp onto the wax, the older gentleman had sealed the envelope with his business' identifying mark, and after it had cooled, he finished the task by using the quill to put an addressee on the front of the envelope. Finally done, Alexander set the sealed correspondence within a small stack of letters that he tied with a red ribbon. When he looked up from his tasks, there was a look of disappointment in his brown eyes that Nathaniel had never experienced before.

"I was hoping to commend you for your efforts yesterday in the matter of my daughter's theft," Alexander said as he stood.

Amid the crow's feet on the older man's rectangular face, there was a single deep wrinkle upon his forehead. While concentrating on his employer's disappointment, Nathaniel could not help but notice the deep blue jacket he wore, as it was a contrast to Alexander's more subtly-colored outfit of white and tan.

"Sir?" Nathaniel asked cautiously, as he feared he knew just what had brought on this impending conversation.

"I would have been more forgiving of your noble intentions if you had simply returned to your duties after your failed attempt to retrieve Catherine's purse. Instead, Master Johnson informed me that you did not arrive with the documents he needed to present to his captain prior to setting sail until after four-thirty in the afternoon. Had he received those documents when he was supposed to, around two-thirty, _Heaven's Gate_ would have departed prior to the weather last night. Instead, those documents were received late, and this has put _Heaven's Gate_ at least a half-day behind schedule. If that ship cannot make up the time and dock at its destination accordingly, I will receive an eight percent reduction in my profits."

Alexander straightened himself to his full height, and stood very rigid, his body language demanding Nathaniel's attention, and for the first time in the months that he had been employed under the Robinson contract, Nathaniel had a fear of the older man.

Although he never raised his voice as he spoke, his tone was incriminating beyond any chance of Nathaniel's innocence. "Instead you were spotted in the tavern with a known pirate. Were you in league with this pirate? Did you arrange a theft with the pickpocket so that you could cavort with pirates using the Reales in Catherine's purse? Are my wages not enough for you?"

Nathaniel's shoulders fell in remorse, and he shook his head. His fingers dug into the stiffness of his tricorne, and all he could see was his dreams of getting closer to Catherine falling away from him.

"Sir, I can only apologize for my actions," Nathaniel offered humbly. "I did attempt to retrieve Miss Catherine's stolen purse, but what happened afterwards was not as it appears."

"I should hope not, young man," Alexander breathed quietly. "However, I cannot see any other explanation being even slightly plausible."

Nathaniel realized that he could tell the honest truth, and it would not matter, but still he needed to try. He could not live with a lie tarnishing his reputation.

Keeping his voice humble and as neutral as possible, Nathaniel explained, "I was attacked by the pirate, Edward Kenway, during my pursuits of the pickpocket, and I was unable to retrieve Miss Catherine's belongings. But, I believe this pirate is not of the usual variety of which your ships encounter. There was something different in his mannerisms, and he insisted that I follow him to the tavern where we talked. He merely asked me to be his eyes and ears in the matters of an observatory, an artifact, and a sage. I do not know of which he means, and he refused to explain further, but I had agreed as he promised that in exchange for my assistance he would find information on the pickpocket who had taken Miss Catherine's belongings."

Alexander took in a breath and crossed his arms, bringing one of his hands to rub against his chin, hoping he had kept his face neutral. He took a moment to appear deep in thought, as though he was weighing the honesty in his courier's explanation.

"My business ventures have trained me to be well-versed in detecting lies," Alexander told him sternly, "And you never seemed the kind of man who was capable of fabricating such elaborate stories, despite how imaginary yours sounds. I will consider myself in a forgiving mood today, and as such, I strongly recommend that you heed my firm warning. If Master Johnson's cargo does not reach its shores by its intended destination and my profits are largely affected, I will deduct the lost amount from your wages a portion at a time until paid in full. I would suggest, Mister Coles, that you blind yourself to the temptations and adventures that are abundant in Nassau, and you keep your mind on your work if you wish to remain under my contract."

"I understand, sir," Nathaniel swallowed, grateful that Master Robinson had not simply cancelled his employment. While it was far from a gift, the terms of his employer's disciplinary actions were far better than he had expected. "I do apologize for my lack of attention to your tasks yesterday, and I wish to do what I can to remain in your employ."

Alexander reached down to his desk to grasp the small stack of letters that he had bundled. "Good. Now, let's see if you can live up to your promises. These letters must reach Captain Banks before his ship, the _Liberty_ , departs at noon. The _Liberty_ is located at the east port, and these letters must be on that ship before it sails."

"Yes, sir." Nathaniel took the letters from his employer and set them into his satchel. For as much as his eyes wanted to wander throughout the hallways to find just the briefest glimpse of Catherine, he knew he could not spare it until he proved himself to Alexander Robinson once again.

With a heavy heart, he hurried out of the Robinson home and began the journey to the east port. He would not make the same ill-fated mistakes again, especially not when he still wanted to find a way to earn Catherine's heart and win her father's acceptance.

 **The Ledger**

Catherine looked over the ledger before her, running her left index finger along the debits and credits for each item and ensuring their accuracy. With a quill in the other hand, she occasionally dipped the writing feather into the ink well while making notes of the expenses that the ship's captain, Robert Jordan, had noted in his ship's log. Captain Jordan claimed that his ship, _Mother's Pearl_ , had run into a storm on the sea and lost nearly thirty Reales in food and almost one-hundred Reales in cotton cloth. However, Captain Jordan had requested repayment in excess of one-thousand ninety Reales, and there was nothing in his report to account for the missing nine-hundred sixty Reales he claimed was owed.

Running a finger over the rest of the ledger, Catherine felt the confusion strike when she saw that her father had paid the captain as he requested. Not understanding or believing that her father would have allowed this, she reviewed the numbers to ensure it was not a clerical error. A scribble of a letter was nearly illegible on the ledger that she had missed previously, thinking it was just part of another entry. She studied the scribble with more scrutiny, forcing her eyes to make sense of it, and after a few long moments, she thought she came to the conclusion that it was a "T." She ran through the usual inventory that most ships logged, trying to think of what else might contain a "T." After a long mental debate, Catherine could only conclude that Captain Jordan had requested compensation of one-thousand ninety Reales for either tea, textiles, or tobacco, and if that was the case, she tried to calculate just how much any one of those items cost and if there were any taxes charged that added up to the amount of goods lost.

Footsteps echoed softly in the small office that Catherine had been provided for when her father requested her help with his trading business. For the briefest of heartbeats, she dared to hope that Nathaniel Coles would be standing in the doorway with her stolen purse. All during last night's storms, she had imagined what she would say while in that moment with him, and as the thunder had rolled over the skies, her heart had pounded just as loudly.

Looking up with anticipation, Catherine felt her hope quickly fall to the floor with a silent thud, as she did not see Nathaniel, but instead she saw Alexander Robinson in his royal blue business coat. It was the one piece of apparel that he wore specifically when he had a meeting to attend with another merchant. He only wore it on rare occasions, and she wondered with whom he was meeting this time. He never invited her along to such appointments, citing that the other merchants would not be fond of a woman in such a position, and she was to remain his silent partner. While Catherine hated being forced to the shadows where the business was concerned, she understood the need for her concealment.

"What are you doing?" Alexander asked, as his eyes fell to the ledger and the journal that were upon her desk. "I told you to review the expenses for the _Fortune_ , not _Mother's Pearl_."

Catherine looked over her notes, proud of herself for having found what might be an error, in the hopes that her father would be pleased with her for questioning the findings of a discrepancy regarding either tobacco, textiles, or tea. "Father, look what I have discovered…"

Alexander suddenly grabbed her notes and put them within the journal related to _Mother's Pearl_ as he pulled it out from Catherine's hands and slammed it shut. He then grasped all the references for _Mother's Pearl_ in his hands and made no indication that he would put the any of them back on the desk. Instead, he held himself firm, his eyes piercing into hers. While he did not raise his voice, there was a certain disappointment in it that ran her blood cold.

"This ship's manifest, log, and ledger do not concern you, Catherine. Next time I ask you to review the documents to a particular ship, I pray you listen to me."

Blinking in silence for a long moment, Catherine could not understand her father's abrupt behavior. The last time he had spoken to her in the manner of such a disciplinarian's voice was just before her trial, in which he demanded she keep herself silent. He had warned her that it would be safest for her case if she just remained quiet and made no protest to her accusers. She didn't understand why he would ask such a falsehood of her, when he knew she had done nothing wrong to end up before the magistrate. But, it was the look in his eyes – the utter fear in them – that had made her hold her silence.

Now, Catherine saw that same fear in Alexander Robinson's eyes. Instead of bringing herself to protest as she was inclined to do, her eyes glanced at the journal and the way he clutched it between his hands. It was as though that book contained death itself, and he was protecting her from it.

"Father, are you in danger?" she asked softly as she stood and felt the skirts of her light gray dress graze the floor near her ankles as she brought her eyes to him.

Alexander took a heavy breath and saw the unmistakable concern in his daughter's eyes. She could always melt his coldness in ways he would never allow anyone else. It was why he had given up so much for her and lived within subordination that she would never know about in order to keep her safe.

"We are perfectly fine," Alexander told her, feeling his eyes soften as he looked at the young woman before him that he believed was everything a father could want in a daughter. She was smart – too smart at times – but she was also kind and generous. Above all, she was a gentle soul who burned with a nature to do right. It was only through the ill-fated choice of defending the wrong victims that she had been forced into this life, with him protecting her in secret ways he hoped she would never learn.

He broke into a grin on his face, that he was certain she would see was forced, but he kept the smile anyway. He had to do what he could to deflect her concerns. Shrugging his shoulders in self-deprecation, he quietly said, "I am just a mindless old man who doesn't want his daughter to see that I had made a mistake that cost us a little too much money."

Catherine's eyes fell to the documents from the _Fortune_ on her desk, before studying the brown leather cover on her father's business ledger for a brief moment. "I know you always worry because of the trouble I had caused us in England. My intentions with reviewing the journey of _Mother's Pearl_ were not out of mistrust for your experience. I only wanted to take on something more challenging."

Dropping his arms by his sides, and shifting the journal under his left arm, Alexander moved to his daughter. He touched her shoulder with his free hand and kissed the top of her head to show her that his concerns and protections for her would never cease no matter how frustrated he would become due to his own faults.

"Back to your work on the _Fortune_ , Catherine. Your mother has already taken her leave to visit with her friends, citing that they had plans to work on some kind of quilt or an embroidery or something involving sewing. You know how she is." Sighing at his wife's interests and knowing his daughter will never share in them, Alexander changed topics to what he knew she would find more interesting. "I have a meeting with a merchant with whom a merger might be beneficial, and I will return later this afternoon. In the meantime, Martha will remain here with you and ensure you stay out of trouble during your mother's and my absences."

Catherine looked to her father and watched as he turned from her, leaving her alone in the small office to do her review of the _Fortune's_ manifest and prepare the ledger. She settled herself back onto the chair and opened the books, but her thoughts were not on the work before her. She knew there was something about _Mother's Pearl_ that had given her father reason for concern, and she was wondering if there was another way to discover what it was about that ship that had frightened Alexander Robinson to his very core.

 **The Gentleman Pirate**

Edward moved about the perimeter of the Robinson home in the mid-afternoon shade, taking in the simplicity of the house while ensuring there were no threats for which he needed to be alert and prepared. The house was not a mansion, not by any means, but it was certainly well-built and a sturdy structure to comfortably house someone with the financial means to afford its minute luxuries.

Standing two stories tall, the house was washed all in white with flowers on vines growing over a curved garden lattice, welcoming visitors to the property. The house was tucked enough away into the trees that it maintained adequate shade to keep the residents cooler than those who lived closer to the main streets of Nassau. A single pathway of stones marked the direction beneath the garden gate, leading towards the main entrance.

The mid-afternoon sun was another reminder of just how long it had taken Edward to get from the brothel to this area of the island, and while he was in his travels, his eyes had caught sight of Nathaniel Coles on one of his errands. Edward, however, decided against worrying the young man with news of the pickpocket being in league with the Templars. It was not a battle that the simple courier would understand, and Edward needed more answers before he could even remotely try to explain that Catherine was in unimaginable peril now that the Templars were targeting her family. The last thing he needed to do was give the courier a reason to enact some kind of bravado that would only get him killed.

Edward considered his options for how best to approach the Robinson family, and he didn't see any kind of security posted around the house. He had already tried his luck with sneaking about the brothel and that didn't work out as well as he had hoped. Perhaps, he might try a more civilized approach, and the thought of it put that infamous smirk across his lips. It wouldn't be the first time he attempted to be a proper gentleman, and if he succeeded, maybe Caroline would even be proud of him at some point when he saw her again.

Moving silently over the stone path, Edward stepped upon the ledge where the front door was waiting. He knocked twice like a proper gentleman was expected and then folded his hands behind his back awaiting an answer. Internally, he was laughing at the thought of a salty pirate captain who lived an Assassin's life standing upon the porch of a well-to-do family as though he was a suitor to Miss Catherine Robinson.

 _Oh, Caroline, if only you could see me now_ , Edward thought, and wished that he truly was knocking on the door to Caroline's home, showing her the wiser man he had become. He briefly had the image of her eyes soaking him in and holding onto him in gratefulness for surviving his adventures and returning to her a proper gentleman.

The door pulled open and it scattered Edward's daydreams for now. He looked down to see a small, older woman with dark skin standing in the doorframe with a wrinkle on her brow, as though she was contemplating exactly how she would take him on in battle. He noticed that her hair was tucked under a swath of cloth over her head, and her plain, gray dress bore an apron that she used to wipe the dust off her flour-coated hands. Her brown eyes grew large at the sight of Edward's many weapons, but her voice remained strong as though she had her share of dealing with such menaces, and she would not simply roll over to his demands.

"Can I help you, sir?" Her voice was protective and skeptical despite her calm mannerisms.

"Aye, sir. I like the sound of that," Edward chuckled, not at all used to being addressed with such respect from those who lived so comfortably. "Might I be able to speak with Miss Catherine Robinson?"

Suddenly, the old woman shook her head, and her strength faltered as she grew tense. She attempted to close the door in a hurry. "She's not here."

Edward, however, was faster, as his foot caught in the gap, and his hand pressed on the wooden door to keep it from sealing shut against the small woman's diminishing strength.

"I mean her no harm," Edward tried to reason, fighting against a strength that the woman did not appear to possess as she had managed to prevent the door from opening further.

A voice called from further inside the house. "Martha, are you all right?"

"Never you worry," the older servant called back, continuing in her struggles to get the door shut while fighting against Edward's strength. "It's just a…"

"Pirate?" came the awed voice that matched the one that had called to the servant just a few moments ago. However, that person was no longer hiding in the house but instead was standing directly behind the servant named Martha.

Edward remembered the description of Catherine Robinson that Nathaniel had given him during their conversation, and the young man had been incredibly accurate, as he caught sight of the young woman with her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun on her head. There were wavy strands of her hair falling free near her ears and cheeks, the longer ones tickling upon the outline of the collar near her bosom. Her face was round, yet symmetrical, with her cheeks and chin giving her a structure that was simple but wholesome. Edward could instantly see how poor Nathaniel Coles had fallen so easily into her charms, as this young woman had very kind eyes, made of a brown that was calming as much as the color was enchanting.

"My name is Edward Kenway, miss, and I am captain of the _Jackdaw_ ," he now said politely and firmly, addressing his words to the young woman, while using his strength to keep the door open. "I have come here merely seeking an audience with Miss Catherine Robinson."

"Your purpose?" Catherine asked, her eyebrows crinkling in curiosity.

Edward decided there was no sense in being formal, and it was time to just speak plainly and bluntly, as he needed to understand the Templars' interest in this family. His voice was clear, his tone serious. "Aye, to warn of danger."

With that, Catherine and Martha exchanged a glance, but the young Robinson woman was quicker, as she slipped around her servant to pull the door open. She raised her arm to guide Edward into the house, admitting the pirate. "Please, follow me to my office."

Edward stepped into the simple home that the Robinson family used, and saw Martha give a warning stare to Catherine that even scared him. However, the older woman did not protest any further, but instead closed the door behind them and followed the pirate as he trailed behind Catherine.

The house had very few personal belongings, mostly just a single wooden end table in the foyer with a glass vase upon it filled with fragrant yellow flowers, a few embroidery cloths attached to the wall depicting blue wildflowers, and two small paintings hanging near the embroidery. One of those paintings was of a bird in layers of multiple colors, and the other was of a sunset along a beach.

Catherine caught sight of the pirate looking at the artwork, and as they paused in their walk, she cryptically offered, "My mother possesses domestic talents I never inherited."

"Aye, she has quite a gift for patterns and an eye for realism," Edward nodded briefly as he looked to Catherine, noticing that they stayed on the first floor of the house.

"I believe that everyone has their skills, some more hidden than others," she replied.

Edward pondered on her words for a heartbeat, curious now as to just what this young woman might mean. "Aye, love, on that we agree."

Catherine allowed only a moment longer to study the pirate, but she decided not to press the issue of this topic regarding her lack of domestic skills. Remaining quiet, she led him down a single hallway to a smaller room towards the back of the house that was next to a large office. When they entered, she motioned for Edward to take a seat on the lone wooden chair before her desk while she settled into the more cushioned chair behind it. There was a single bookshelf, small in stature, with only a handful of leather-bound novels upon it. Her desk remained uncluttered, save for a quill, an inkwell, a ledger that was currently closed, and a stack of papers as though she was about to write correspondence.

For a twenty-year old woman, Catherine Robinson held the maturity of a sixty-year old man while seated behind her business desk, and Edward found he missed the excited girl who had greeted him at the door.

"You said you are here to warn of danger, Captain," Catherine said, while folding her hands before her and setting them on the desktop. She briefly gave a silent nod to Martha, who now took on the role as her chaperone, ensuring that Catherine Robinson remained a proper young lady during whatever this exchange would entail. "Now, I wish to know everything you claim."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: There may be a delay with posting Chapter 6, as I will not have access to the Internet consistently over the next couple weeks. I will do what I can to keep on schedule, but if there is a delay, please know that it will not be for long, and regular postings should resume again by the end of April.

 _ **Chapter 5**_

 **The Meeting**

Edward studied Catherine Robinson's demeanor and stature, aware of an underlying excitement within her, as though she had information of her own and was seeking confirmation of what she knew. He wasn't certain how much he should reveal, especially about Templars and Assassins, but there was something to her that was not easily obvious. Despite being a young woman, he could somehow see that she had a shrouded past of her own, something that she rarely – or possibly had never – shared with others.

His eyes took notice to her folded fingers, and he glanced briefly along her arms, mentally documenting that her loose, ruffled sleeves fell closer to her wrists than over her forearms. The more common style of sleeves for a woman of her status was for the sleeves to fall from the elbows, and he filed that away for the moment, as he could not be caught staring in ways that would end this meeting long before it started. He realized Martha had been eyeing him suspiciously from her place by Catherine's left, and he hurried his eyes to return to the young Robinson daughter's irises.

"There is a pickpocket about the island that I understand had taken some valuables of yours, lass," Edward said, opening the dialogue between them to begin the discussion. He relinquished the little information he had been able to amass and hoped it would lead to a satisfactory exchange.

"Have you found him?" Catherine asked, and forced away the disappointment that this was not Nathaniel who was returning her belongings.

"Aye, miss, I followed him, only to discover that the pickpocket is a woman who goes by Abigail," he explained. "And, she has a partner who is seeing that there is a renewed interest taken in your family."

Catherine and Martha exchanged a quick look as she inhaled a deep breath. Her folded hands broke apart, only to be tightened into individual fists. Her eyes shifted briefly away from her guardian and the pirate captain, focusing on something that only she could see.

Her voice was now tight and concerned. "Did they describe their reasons for this interest?"

"Aye, they said that your father had bribed his way out of London, and that you had managed to escape imprisonment for crimes against two…men." Edward held his tongue on the types of men. He wanted to know just how much Catherine understood about the men involved in her crime before delving into the fact that they were Templars.

Catherine looked up, and those brown eyes that could be so enchanting were now spiked with an anger that held him in place. "Those men falsely accused me of attacking them when they were the ones bringing harm to others. I stepped in to stop the conflict, only to find myself arrested for a crime I did not commit."

"Does that explain the scars, love?" Edward asked, his eyes boring down to her arms and seeing the faint lines peeking out from beneath her sleeves. When she had shifted her hands earlier, one of her sleeves pushed back, revealing a long-healed gash along her forearm and a few smaller ones of lesser harm.

"Sir, you need to leave…" Martha started.

However, Catherine raised her hand to calm the older woman. "No, Martha, it's all right. A man as marked in battle as Captain Kenway should find a laughable appreciation in this that others do not."

Lifting the fabric to show this pirate the scars on her skin, she explained, "These sleeves on my dresses are my own design, to hide the marks that would otherwise shun me from my peers. Where my mother uses her hands for sewing and painting, I chose to use mine for my own protection. Years ago, after much protesting and arguing with my father, I was finally granted permission to take fencing lessons. However, there was no purpose to be found in those techniques to protect myself. It was a style for showmanship and not much else. Frustrated, I sought out others to teach me proper sword techniques, and while learning, I received my share of injuries during those practices. One night, my overconfidence caught up with me as I used the knowledge I had learned to stop two men from hurting a mother and her young son."

Setting the material on her arms back into place, Catherine looked to this unusual pirate, who warned of danger for her family rather than seeking to use her for ransom. "For my troubles, my father was forced to pay a huge fine, but I am not so naïve that I didn't know it was a bribe. That payment had kept those men and their organization away from my sisters and kept me from being sentenced to prison. In order to get away from the corruption of the magistrate and his constables, we relocated here in Nassau. But, I was told that I am forever forbidden to use my sword knowledge or risk imprisonment. If you say that people are watching my family again, then I am of the belief that they are seeking to use me in order to maintain control on my father."

Edward saw something very different now in this young Catherine Robinson. He saw a defeated woman who had been denied appropriate justice, and he saw an intelligent woman who knew more than she was probably expected to understand. She could be as innocent and naïve in public as she chose, but behind closed doors, she was a force to be reckoned. However, it did not explain why the pickpocket had a personal interest in this young woman, as there had been no mention of her being present during Catherine's altercation with the two Templar men.

Edward took a breath and decided it was time for Catherine to understand the entire depth of the dangers surrounding her. "The men who did this to you are Templars, lass," he revealed. "They control others and seek to bring all of humanity under their rule."

Suddenly, things started to make sense as they fell into place, and Catherine could not help herself, as her findings from earlier in the day came to her. "Then, it seems that these Templars have never taken their hold off my father."

"How much do you know of the Templars, love?"

Catherine shook her head, offering her findings. "Nothing beyond the stories and legends of them being considered heroes in the Crusades. However, what you say now fills in gaps I did not understand previously that had been haunting my thoughts. Earlier today, I came across a notation in a ship's ledger that my father did not want me to review. He has since taken that ledger and hidden it from me, but from what I did see, there were payment discrepancies I didn't understand. At first I thought it was a shipment or some tax that the captain wanted reimbursed because it was only marked with a strange-looking _T_. When I brought it to my father, thinking it was an error, he acted as though I had summoned the Devil."

"And, clearly we have," answered a voice that was neither Edward's nor Catherine's.

All three occupants shifted their attention to see Alexander Robinson standing in the doorway. His blue coat was torn, and his face had signs of swelling with a large reddened mark near his eye. He walked with a limp into the small office, his gray hair falling around him, the ribbon that had been there earlier in the morning long gone.

"Father!" Catherine called in concern, watching while Edward and Martha moved to the older man's side and caught him before he fell.

 **The Templar Within**

After nearly fifteen minutes, Alexander Robinson finally awakened. His injuries were not life-threatening, but they had been powerful enough that the exhaustion of the journey home had forced him to pass out. His age simply was not able to sustain such a beating without needing some kind of immediate recovery period.

During the moments that the older man had been passed out, Catherine worked to wash his facial wounds while Martha removed his torn blue coat and brought him a thin blanket to wrap within until he would be able to change into fresh clothing. Edward offered suggestions for wound care, based on his battlefield knowledge, observing how the Robinson daughter maintained her calm, despite the bubbling of unrest that was within her.

Catherine had brought the pirate a bottle of rum from her father's office, along with one of the glass tumblers that Alexander had used for his business meetings. As the older man started to come around and awaken, Edward lifted a glass of the alcohol to the older man's lips and encouraged him to drink until Martha could have a pot of tea ready for him. While waiting for the tea, Martha brought a tray of bread and cheese, to help nourish Alexander while he sat upon the chair in his daughter's office.

"Who did this?" Catherine asked, dabbing again at the small cut on her father's forehead.

Feeling the fog lifting from his thoughts and having some sense of his former self return, Alexander gently pushed his daughter's hands from his wounds. He sat himself upright and stared down the pirate who stood a few feet away from him but too close to Catherine for him to feel entirely comfortable. He decided to keep what he knew as shrouded as he could so as not to alarm either Catherine or Martha.

"They attacked me from behind, covering my head so I could not see who they were. And, they were very quiet, like they wanted who they were kept entirely secret. It was the most bizarre thieving I had ever encountered, and I suppose they thought me an easy target because of my age and financial status."

"Master Robinson, with all due respect," Edward spoke, "I suspect you know your attackers, and I think we both know this was no mere thieving…"

Alexander focused his eyes more clearly on the pirate, and interrupted with a harsh voice, "First you harass my courier and now I find you with my daughter?"

Catherine stole a glance at the pirate, and she wondered just what Nathaniel could possibly have been doing with this Edward Kenway. Her father's courier seemed too good of a gentleman to be cavorting with the likes of a dangerous man of the seas. But then again, this pirate was an unusual man in that he was not harming the Robinsons. Instead, he had come to them with information and knowledge that Catherine was certain could help their current situation. Now, she wondered just how Edward Kenway knew Nathaniel, and if she really knew anything about the courier of which she had been secretly admiring.

"You should consider yourself lucky, mate, that they have only issued a warning," Edward explained, remembering his eavesdropping with the Templars. "We both know that this attack was to ensure you retrieve the particular cargo they tasked you with procuring."

"You know nothing of which you speak, you criminal," Alexander seethed softly.

Catherine spoke before Captain Kenway could, and she, strangely, found herself defending the pirate. "Father, this Captain Kenway may be a pirate, but he is the first person I have encountered who has an understanding about what happened to me in England." Looking to Alexander and suddenly wanting real answers to the deflections her father had been so well-versed in providing, she coldly said, "He was telling me about the Templars. Now, just how much do you know?"

Alexander took Catherine's hand in his and squeezed it in concern, knowing that everything he had fought to keep from her was finally surfacing. "When you defended that mother and her child, it was just happenstance that you had crossed paths with the Templars. Unfortunately, the Templars took advantage of your so-called crime and used it as an opportunity to forcefully bring me into their servitude. I tried to hide from you for as long as I could that I sponsor certain ships on quests for the Templars, ships like _Mother's Pearl_. I thought I had been far more careful, but apparently they discovered that I had redirected delivery of very specific cargo. They threatened to do more than this attack if I don't produce it accordingly."

"What is this cargo?" she asked, feeling her heart pounding in her chest that her troubles had never left her family, and fearing the dangers that she had caused unknowingly.

Aware of his eyes shifting between his daughter and the armed man in his home and starting to piece together that Captain Kenway was no mere pirate, Alexander begrudgingly replied, "The Ribbon of Samson."

"Jaysus," Edward breathed softly, his voice somewhere between awe and concern.

Catherine shifted her eyes between the two men for a brief moment, but when neither took the silent prompt to explain it further, she demanded, "Tell me about this Ribbon of Samson."

Unexpectedly, it was not Alexander who answered but Edward. "Aye, lass, an artifact that is the real reason behind Samson's strength, and an item of interest to the Templars…as well as other concerned parties."

Alexander nodded and filled in what the pirate had left unsaid. "The Bible story claims that Samson's strength came from his hair, but it actually came from a Ribbon that had been braided within a lock of his hair. After his hair was cut off, Samson lost his strength, but not because he lost his hair…"

"Because he lost the Ribbon," Catherine finished, her skepticism surfacing. "But, surely, this is just a story repeated through the ages and told by the church as part of the teachings they use from the Bible to discourage vanity."

"I thought the same," Alexander admitted. "I did not believe that the stories in the Bible were more than that. It seemed too fantastical to have these men and women with special abilities, but the Templars had proven to me how such madness exists. They showed me texts that the church has kept secret for unknown centuries and how the church had twisted these stories to hide the artifacts that were the cause of such remarkable persons. These writings describe the theory that there are artifacts of a pre-cursor race that had used them to control humans. Now, the pre-cursors have all but disappeared over the years, and these Templars seek to find these artifacts so that they can take control and rule over the populace, bending others to their own purposes."

Edward crossed his arms and rubbed his chin in thought, briefly reminiscing on his recent years of understanding such items. He knew that chasing after the Observatory and his continuing hunt for the Sage were just some of many relics lost in time, but he did not expect this particular artifact to surface so unexpectedly. He had seen for himself just how dangerous such artifacts were that he finally grasped the severity of their usage in the wrong hands.

"Aye, if the Templars gain control of this Ribbon and apply it on the right person, they could have a member of their Order become a soldier whose strength would be unstoppable," Edward explained.

"Why would the Templars share so much knowledge with you if they merely want to use…" Catherine stopped her question before she finished it. Her eyes caught the guilt on her father's face, and she took a step back, breaking her hand from his. "You joined them. You aligned with the men who falsely accused me of assaulting them."

"It was the only way," Alexander pleaded, as he shook his head in remorse because he had willingly participated in activities with these Templars in order to protect his family. "At first, I wanted nothing to do with their secret society, but then I realized that if I could convince them that I was interested in what they had to offer, I could use them to keep us protected. Unfortunately, they never trusted me fully, and instead of accepting me, they furthered their threats. To ensure I comply and don't try to confiscate information or an artifact for myself, they had threatened to use you for leverage. But, I had been approached separately by a man who had assured me…"

"And, exactly how do they plan to use me for leverage?" Catherine interrupted, as she ignored the rest of her father's rambling, feeling a cold fear rising from somewhere inside her that brought on a fright she had never known before.

Alexander's eyes fell to the floor, the guilt and shame he had kept hidden from his daughter for so long surfacing in his demeanor. "Months ago when we first arrived here, I had introduced you to a man named Samuel Barnes, but he was not a man of my choosing for your suitor. He was the product of Templar manipulation to ensure that I understand that they were still watching us. I did everything I could to keep your contact with him limited, so he would not take advantage of you. Thankfully, his cavorting and drinking was something I was able to use against him, and I paid a ship's crewman handsomely to dispose of him quietly. What I have kept from you is that I have been manipulating your life to keep you protected from the Templars ever since we left England."

"The Templars don't just control others. They enslave them, love," Edward answered, feeling a strange pity for this young woman as he watched her eyes shield over with a contempt that seemed entirely uncharacteristic for what he had learned of her during his short time in her presence. "These Templars will continue to have unfinished business with your family until the Ribbon is theirs, and then they will do so again when the next artifact surfaces that they want."

"The pirate is right, Catherine," Alexander sighed, as he rubbed one of his aching ribs gingerly. "Even though the Templars you fought in England had been refrained from interfering in our lives further, there were others above them who have been making demands of me. They occasionally throw incidents our way that I have managed to keep you uninvolved with and protected against."

Catherine spoke softly, her eyes studying her father with remorse. "Such as the secrets that lie in the ship ledgers you won't let me review."

"Yes," he admitted softly.

Catherine felt more vulnerable than she ever had, and she leaned against her desk for support. Her voice was soft, caught between anger and shame. "These Templars had forced you to do more than just pay for their excursions, Father, and this is all because I had unknowingly involved us with them."

"You meant well that night to protect that woman and her child, and I will never fault you for that," Alexander responded quietly, "But I fear that the retrieval of this Ribbon has given the Templars an excuse to dig their manipulations in even deeper."

Looking to the pirate now and remembering the request for particular information that Nathaniel Coles had told him that Kenway asked of him, the older Robinson hardened his voice, his tone daring the pirate to fabricate a lie. "Now, Captain, what exactly is your interest in all this?"

"Aye, to take the Ribbon of Samson where the Templars cannot find it, and no one else will exploit its uses," Edward replied, knowing this Ribbon would be his first real challenge as a lone Assassin.

"You're more than just a pirate," Catherine said, studying him and trying to decipher just why this man had so conveniently appeared in their lives when it seemed they needed his help so greatly. "Every enemy has a counterpart, and if your intentions are not the same as the Templars, then what exactly are you?"

"He is a sworn enemy of the Templars," Alexander said, his voice confirming his suspicions. "Tell her."

Glancing between father and daughter, and feeling the weight of their eyes upon him, Edward knew he had no choice now but to explain just how he fit into the puzzle of Templars, artifacts, and an innocent young woman drawn into a war for which she should not have been recruited.

Feeling stirrings he had never quite known before for a purpose that was entirely selfless, Edward quietly replied, "Aye, love, I am an Assassin."


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Notes_ : My apologies for the delay. I had been away on vacation, but I am resuming the bi-weekly postings starting this week. Enjoy.

 _ **Chapter 6**_

 **The Gamble**

Nathaniel caught a cool breeze on the incoming dusk, and it motivated him to move even faster back to the Robinson home. He had delivered the correspondence from Master Robinson, and he also managed to get a few extra correspondence deliveries done along the way from the other captains and merchants. With nearly thirty minutes to spare before nightfall, and what was considered the customary end of his working day, Nathaniel slowed his sprint as he advanced towards the garden arch that signified the Robinson home.

Hearing voices, the courier paused just out of sight in the dark shade of one of the trees. When he peered around the trunk, he saw Catherine moving about the garden. Nathaniel felt that stir within his chest at the sight of her, and he wondered if he would ever have the courage to talk to her in a way that was more than simple, polite greetings. He saw that Catherine's eyes were staring intently into nothing as she fell upon the bench near the fragrant shrubs in the garden. Her quiet words were spoken so softly that whoever was near her was the only one capable of hearing them.

Shifting his weight more, Nathaniel rotated himself around the trunk of the tree until he could see with whom she was talking, and he suddenly felt that heat within his chest freeze over into a spike so cold, it actually gave him pain. Standing beside Catherine was the exact same pirate captain who had jumped on him just the day before – Edward Kenway.

Feeling a wash of anger and grief, he wondered now if everything the pirate had told him was just to build his trust so that he could plunder from him – not his correspondence and Reales – but the one thing on this island that retained Nathaniel's sanity. Knowing he had no chance of survival against the pirate, especially when he didn't even know if his affections for Catherine would be reciprocated, Nathaniel swallowed down his disappointment. She was entitled to share her time with anyone she chose, and his secret admirations had always remained just that – secret. He had never told her how he felt, and he could blame no one for that but himself.

Stepping onto the pathway, Nathaniel watched Catherine stand from the bench as though to greet him. He lowered his head in respect and touched his tricorne, but he offered nothing more as he made his way towards the door. Just as he was about to knock, he saw the pirate step into his field of vision.

"You just couldn't resist," Nathaniel whispered coldly. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you."

"Easy, mate," Edward explained softly and calmly. "You're letting your protection of Miss Catherine cloud your thoughts. Did you forget I have a desire to return to my wife?"

Nathaniel shot back, "Only after you fulfill yourself with other women first."

Feeling his own defensive nerve struck by the courier's words, Edward set a hand on Nathaniel's upper arm and squeezed with enough pressure to make sure the younger man had his attention. Even in his darkest moments when he had given into the temptations of other women and their pleasures, Edward only ever saw Caroline's face and felt her touch.

"I learned that your dear Catherine is in danger, and if you want to think I'm here to steal her away from you, then go ahead and have such thoughts," Edward whispered coldly, "But, I assure you…"

"What kind of danger?" Nathaniel interrupted, the pain in his arm suddenly forgotten as the thought of Catherine being harmed over-rode his momentary spark of jealousy.

"The kind that a courier need not worry about, but the kind that I know you will insist on getting involved in," Edward explained, as released his hold on Nathaniel and took a step back. "You should be thankful that I have come across your path, mate. Now, you have the choice of pursuing that young lass or you can walk away with the warning I have given you about her. Aye, now, if you choose to pursue her, you best know that you will become entangled in her troubles."

Nathaniel watched as Captain Kenway moved away from the house, and the pirate pulled his hood upon his head, covering his blonde hair. When Kenway had disappeared into the shadows of dusk, Nathaniel turned to see that Catherine had resumed her place upon the small garden seat. He noticed that her eyes had glanced over to him, and when they caught, that familiar flourish of warmth filled his chest. He couldn't understand what had possibly happened that would bring peril to a woman of such gentleness.

He briefly wondered how he could start such a conversation to learn more about her when he had only ever spoken polite acknowledgements to her in the months that he had been under her father's employ. And, with that thought, he felt the weight of defeat upon his shoulders pull him into the abyss that was the distance from her where he remained.

Turning from Catherine, Nathaniel sighed a heavy breath and raised his hand to knock on the door, knowing that protocol dictated he await Martha to admit him. However, he stopped himself before knocking and felt his hand fall to his side before touching the door. Composing himself, he turned once again to Catherine and took his tricorne from his head. Holding it before him, he stepped towards her, but kept his distance polite. If what Edward said was true about her being in danger, and he never took the chance to do this he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Earlier, Catherine had asked to go outside for some air, needing space to absorb the onslaught of revelations and information that had been thrown at her. Learning that her father had been facing the Templars by himself to keep her protected and then discovering the ongoing secret battle for the human race from an Assassin, she longed to get out of the house's walls that had encased her. She had remained in conversation with Captain Kenway as he followed her outside and escorted her to the front yard, and she suspected it was because he needed the freedom of the open island as well.

Before departing, the captain had spoken briefly of doing more investigating into her family's plight in an effort to see what he could learn about the Ribbon of Samson and if there was any way to track down her father's assailants. Catherine had expressed her gratitude to him, and offered whatever assistance she was capable of providing as he pursued his inquiries. Captain Kenway had appreciated her help but he assured her that she would be best suited to remain in the background and not bring attention to herself or the knowledge she had acquired.

Catherine had then noticed Nathaniel entering the yard, and time froze for her. Amidst all the confusion of her family's dangers, she had forgotten about him and that he was now at risk if he remained in her father's employ. Before Kenway left, he had warned her that there were innocents surrounding her family, and he could not promise that they would avoid the crossfire. He asked her to consider making the necessary decisions about those that they wished to remain safe. Martha, of course, refused to leave the Robinson's service. She declared that she would rather die a free woman, earing wages under Alexander Robinson than wandering homeless through the streets of Nassau waiting for an unknown fate.

Catherine had pushed aside her thoughts of Martha's loyalty as she watched Captain Kenway move towards Nathaniel, and she could not imagine what business the pirate would have with her father's courier. However, the exchange was brief, and she could neither hear their words nor see their facial expressions to understand what they had discussed. Then, she saw the Assassin disappear under his hood and blend into the incoming evening shadows. That left Nathaniel to report to her father, and she lowered her eyes in expectation of being alone in the garden.

"Miss Catherine," Nathaniel said softly, acknowledging her with a slight bow.

It was when she heard Nathaniel's voice gently break the quiet by saying her name that she felt her breathing grow tight. Looking up in the gray of dusk, Catherine realized that he had stepped within a few feet of her, and she was drawn to finding the green within the hazel of his eyes. For so many months, she had wished for a moment to talk with him without the attendance of her family or a chaperone, and now that her moment had come, she didn't know what to do because all she wanted was to keep him safe.

"Mister Coles," she responded quietly. Catherine then decided to talk about the one thing she knew was the safest and most common factor between them. "Thank you for your attempt to retrieve my purse yesterday."

Nathaniel took a step closer, not realizing he had even done so, and he gripped his tricorne tighter in his hands to force himself to admit his failure. "I am sorry to report that I was unsuccessful, and you have my deepest apologies."

"I was carrying very few Reales," Catherine explained, not realizing that she was pressing a hand to her stomach in an unsuccessful attempt to catch the butterflies within her. "But, I am ever grateful for your intentions to be of service."

"I only wished to return the kindness that has always been granted upon me," Nathaniel replied softly.

Suddenly, he was engulfed by a wave of exhilaration as he saw the corners of her lips curve into a small smile. It was the expression of gratitude he had only dreamed she would offer him at the return of her belongings. But, returning her stolen purse was not necessary for the opportunity to bathe in her kindness. They merely needed to break that invisible wall that hung between them for months, and her smile in this new freedom was everything he had hoped it would be. All the questions he had imagined asking her exploded in his head, and he knew he was wasting precious time deciding on which one of them to ask.

Refusing to lose the moment he had been given with her, Nathaniel thought of the many scribblings in his small journal. "Miss Catherine, would it be imposing of me to share with you a verse or two that I have written?"

Feeling her cheeks burn with a bashfulness that was uncharacteristic for her, Catherine could not help the smile upon her lips and was grateful for the dusk of night to hide her reddened cheeks. "I would be honored."

Nathaniel felt a wave of nervousness consume him, and as he reached for his journal inside his jacket pocket, he nearly lost his grip on his tricorne. However, just as his fingers brushed the leather-bound book, a lantern appeared between him and Catherine, breaking the opportunity for them to share each other's company more in-depth.

Martha stood as a barrier, blocking each one from the other as her eyes shifted from Alexander Robinson's employee to his daughter and back again. "Miss Catherine, it has grown dark, and your father requests you return inside. Mr. Coles, please leave your parcels with me, and I will deliver them to him. He is not feeling well at the moment and will sort through them later this evening."

Catherine caught the disappointment in Nathaniel's eyes, and she was certain he could read the same in hers. It was the first time they truly held any kind of conversation, and all she could think about was how he made her tremble by holding her under his gaze. She wondered what kinds of words he had written and what would have transpired had they been able to spend a longer amount of time together.

Getting her feet beneath her, Catherine watched Nathaniel hand over the letters from his bag, and she could have sworn that his eyes shone with the same reflection of disappointment that was in hers. Silently, she followed Martha towards the house, pausing long enough to glance once at Nathaniel as she passed by him. Their eyes caught, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that was not present previously. Catherine had decided in that moment that even though she may have wanted to keep Nathaniel Coles distant for his protection, she was just unable to ignore the connection that existed between them.

 **The Flirtation**

The following morning Catherine had hurried from her father's room upstairs to his office below, concerned that she would appear disorganized if she entered the office after Nathaniel's arrival. She had gotten herself involved in a lengthy discussion with her father when she had mentioned that her mother had not returned the day before. Alexander easily dismissed Sarah's absence, assuring her that it had been arranged prior for her to stay with her friends for the night. Catherine had never been one to conform to the social circles that the ladies of her status were renowned for, but Sarah Robinson had been raised in that environment, and she was the type of woman who easily made acquaintances and often lost track of time in her many visits. Alexander had tried to encourage Catherine to follow in her mother's footsteps, but Catherine just could not bring herself into the false smiles and gossip while she worked on needlepoint. Both Catherine and Alexander knew that this was not the first time that Sarah had become an overnight guest, and Catherine had to relent to the fact that Sarah would return after brunch, as she always did.

Moving about the house towards Alexander's business office, Catherine would not dwell on her mother's absence as she knew that her father's injuries would have only upset Sarah, and the longer she was gone the longer Alexander could recover without her fretting more than necessary. He would need a few more days to fully recuperate, but his mind was alert, and he continued to write his correspondence throughout the evening and during the early light of dawn. He had rested for a few hours during the night, and occasionally Catherine would hear him moaning in his sleep from the pain that had been inflicted upon his body. However, when he wasn't sleeping he spoke like a perfectly sound businessman who did not want to see his trade stop just because he had paused to recover from his injuries.

Feeling her heart pounding in her chest and her fingers trembling upon the small stack of letters within her hands, Catherine's thoughts were no longer on her father or her mother as she set the stack of letters on the desk in Alexander's office. Her hands fell onto the wood of the desk as she closed her eyes, and she breathed in heavily, taking a moment to collect herself before Nathaniel would arrive.

She was still overwhelmed by the sensations that their minute conversation last night had brought upon her, and for those few moments she had forgotten about the Templars and the hold they had on her family.

The clock in the corner struck the early hour of the morning, and her hand had instinctively pressed to her stomach as she opened her eyes. The nervous fluttering had started again, and it would not be much longer before she would be in Nathaniel's presence once more. She didn't understand how or why he did this to her, but he was the only man she had encountered who could make her so weak despite the strong woman she had become.

Catherine heard Martha moving throughout the house, and her footsteps echoing towards the foyer. She bit her lower lip gently and tried to hide the childish smile that had broken free. She was going to see Nathaniel again in a just a few short moments, and she covered her mouth with her hand to hide the grin that she was simply unable to prevent as she listened for his arrival.

Nathaniel breathed in the clean, salt air and had enjoyed the walk in the bright island sunshine. He found this morning was one of the most pleasant he had experienced on Nassau in a number of weeks, and he knew exactly why his senses had been so heightened. He was undeniably content in a way that he had never truly experienced before, and he hoped fate would grant him another encounter with Catherine Robinson.

Knocking on the front door to the Robinson home, Nathaniel waited for Martha to open the door and lead him to Master Robinson's office. He thought all night and all morning about the brief, but sadly interrupted, conversation he shared with Catherine the night prior, and he took a deep breath at the hope of having an opportunity to see her once again.

He heard someone behind the door and the thought of being able to share in a second conversation with Catherine shot a spike of warmth within him. Hurriedly, Nathaniel took his tricorne from his head and forced the schoolboy grin from his face.

As he predicted, Martha opened the door, but her dark eyes looked him over with pity and concern rather than her usual indifference at his presence.

"Good Day to you, Miss Martha," Nathaniel offered with his usual bow.

"Good Day, Mister Coles," Martha replied in return as she pulled the door open further to admit Alexander's courier. He stepped inside the foyer and watched as she closed the door behind him.

"Master Robinson is recuperating from a…malady," Martha explained worriedly, her words practically a warning, and sounding very much like a parent. "Miss Catherine will be awaiting your arrival in his office. You may meet with her."

Nathaniel felt his chest swell even more, and the warmth within it from this morning only grew in intensity. His fingers tightened their grip on his tricorne, and forcing the grin off his face, he bowed graciously again towards the servant. "You have my thanks."

"You mind your manners with Miss Catherine," Martha warned, her tone that of a parent. "I need only to tend to Master Robinson for a few moments."

Nathaniel felt himself instantly sober at the servant's words, but he refused to be deterred by them. He would be certain to appreciate those precious, unchaperoned minutes in Catherine's company, and he watched Martha move towards the hallway where the steps to the upstairs were located. Assuming that Master Robinson was resting in a room on the second story of the house, Nathaniel felt the wave of giddiness overtake him, and he stepped quickly down the hallway to the business office where he been reprimanded only yesterday. He thought it amusing now how that moment of torment under Alexander Robinson's disciplinary gaze seemed like it was from a lifetime ago. The morning had started wonderfully, and he could only imagine it would move forward just as pleasantly.

Nathaniel stepped within the doorframe of the Robinson business office. He saw Catherine facing away from him, her light blue dress a faded shade of the morning's sky. Her hair was in its usual loose bun with tendrils floating effortlessly near her cheeks and neck, the longer strands tickling along her back and chest. He noted that she appeared to be leaning over the desk as though reading through something that had caught her interest. He rapped his fingers gently upon the wooden frame of the doorway and waited for her to turn around so that she would not think him rude by begging for her attention before she was ready to give it.

Catherine sucked in a breath and forced herself to keep it as quiet as possible when she heard the gentle knock. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments to compose herself as best she could. When she opened her eyes, she turned to see Nathaniel holding his tricorne in his hands, standing like a humble, brown-clothed courier was expected in her father's presence. However, her eyes had been drawn to his hazel irises, and in them she saw a spark that she was certain he would never offer to her father.

"Good day, Miss Catherine," Nathaniel said with the acknowledging bow he always presented to her. He ran thousands of words though his mind in mere seconds before setting upon the ones he hoped she would find acceptable. "I am honored to see you on this morning."

"Good day to you as well, Mr. Coles," Catherine responded and watched him step into the office, as casually as he would on any morning when her father was present.

Despite all the months she had spent in long stares, Catherine found that in this close proximity she was unable to break her eyes away from his face, noticing details that were hidden in the distance they always kept from each other. Studying Nathaniel this closely in the morning light, she discovered that the angles of his cheeks and jawline flattered his face. The loose locks of his light brown hair that were too short to stay tucked into the ribbon behind his neck revealed a hint of auburn that she had not noticed before. It was the first time she truly could look upon him without a chaperone or the distance between them, and he had captured her attention just by his mere presence. She found herself entirely caught up in how handsome he appeared in the daylight as opposed to the shadows that had suppressed his features last night. And, she could not help herself from staring into the kindness that overflowed from his hazel irises.

"Is everything all right, Miss Catherine?" Nathaniel asked. He saw that she suddenly seemed wrapped up in thoughts, and he wondered if any of them had to do with the warnings of a certain pirate.

Shaking her head and awakening from whatever enchantment this man had upon her, Catherine said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude with my silence."

She turned from him slightly to pick up the small packet of letters from the desk and thought of her father recovering from injuries while she was selfishly allowing her attention to fantasize with his trusted courier.

Nathaniel hoped he could find some way to delay his departure – if only for a few moments longer. As his eyes watched Catherine bring the letters before her, he feared that the inevitable would be coming sooner rather than later.

"If you consider yourself rude, I certainly could not imagine being caught in your gentle wrath," he said, hoping his words would delay his leave for just a moment longer.

Catherine could not help the faint smile that traced over her lips at his tender compliment. However, that smile was very short-lived as it was only a reminder of the fact that it was her gentle wrath that had landed her father in his predicament with the Templars and she just a hair's breadth away from the danger they brought. Being so close to Nathaniel in this moment made her realize just how much she didn't want him entangled in her family's difficulties, and with regret, she pushed aside the infatuated woman to bring forth the business woman.

Dropping her eyes to the correspondence in her fingers, Catherine held the enveloped notes before her as she explained, "My father has requested you deliver these and await a reply only on the letters to Master Johnson and Mister Williams. He expects your prompt return this evening with their responses."

Nathaniel felt his heart sink, knowing that he had over-stayed his welcome and he needed to get started on his route if there was any chance of returning to bring the requested letters to Catherine upon his later arrival. He reached forward to take the pile from her and felt a spike of warmth surge through his arm when his fingers brushed against the back of her hand. He paused, unable to step back from her, feeling entirely entranced by the minute touch and confused as to whether he should just take the letters and leave or boldly linger in the moment.

Catherine's breath caught at the heat of Nathaniel's fingers, the minute touch sending a tingling wave up her arm, and any logic she had about her father's business or keeping Nathaniel safe from her threatened life evaporated. Looking up, her eyes caught his, and she wondered if they had been standing this close the entire time or if one of them had moved closer to the other. She felt lost in his hazel depths, seeing the man in there who was sincere and kind and simply wanted to share whatever time with her that fate would allow.

"Miss Catherine!" shouted Martha, as she uncharacteristically stumbled into the business office, nearly tripping on her skirts in her hurry. "There was a knock at the door, and when I opened it, only this was there."

Catherine and Nathaniel broke their touch, both fearing being caught in a moment of impropriety, and he quickly took the letters from Catherine, as their attention was drawn to the older woman. When her hands came forward, she held in them a note and a thick lock of grayish blonde hair still held captive by the clasp that looked like a pearlescent flower carved from a decorative seashell.

Taking the note and reading it hastily, Catherine choked down a sob and stepped backwards so that she could lean against the desk. "Oh my God. They have Mother. I thought she was just staying overnight…"

When Catherine's words trailed off, Nathaniel stood straighter, his attention shifting between the two women. As his eyes settled again upon a broken Catherine, his defensive nerve was triggered, giving his voice an edge. "Who has taken your mother?"

"You needn't get involved," Catherine answered quickly, feeling her resolve return. She could not dare take retribution for the actions of these kidnappers, as it would risk her family in far too many ways. However, she knew of a certain Assassin who she would persuade instead. "I will handle this. I shouldn't have alarmed you."

"You should leave now, Mister Coles," Martha pressed gently.

Ignoring the servant, Nathaniel could not stop the overwhelming wave of protection he had for Catherine. "You are planning to find the pirate, Captain Kenway, aren't you – the same pirate that was here last night?"

Catherine looked up, confused as she remembered watching Nathaniel and Edward in their brief exchange yesterday evening. "How exactly do you know him?"

"I will explain another time," Nathaniel said in a rush. "Let me find him for you."

"Mister Coles…" Martha pressed.

"No," Catherine said, her attention solely on Nathaniel as her eyes had shielded over with a determination that he had not seen in her before. "You have my father's deliveries to handle. If you find Captain Kenway in your travels, please tell him of my plight. Your letters will send you south and east, and I will begin my search north, where his ship is docked. If he is not there, I will move towards the west."

Nathaniel could not help himself, his concern for her steadily growing. "Miss Catherine, I don't mean to press, but there are dangers in seeking out a pirate…"

"And, I will deal with them, Mister Coles," Catherine interrupted, her voice colder than she intended. She could not tell Nathaniel about Captain Kenway being an Assassin and a sworn enemy of the Templars, even though it made him the most logical choice for an ally against the people holding her mother.

Taking a breath to calm herself, Catherine realized that she had spoken harsher than she intended, and she shook her head. "I apologize. I am just shaken at the moment and don't mean to enact my concerns on you, but my father has specific instructions for you to follow, and he has insisted that you do not deviate from those directives."

Nathaniel looked to the stack of letters in his hand and then to the strength he saw in Catherine's eyes. She was a woman he really didn't know, other than a few glances and those few maddening moments in her presence, but he was not deterred by her resolve. The urgency to do right in her eyes shone like a bright beacon, and it was that light he found he was unable to ignore.

"Miss Catherine," he told her softly. "Whatever your intentions, please come back safely."

Unable to move for a moment, Catherine's eyes caught Nathaniel's. In his hazel depths, he carried a concern and a protection for her that was unique and something she had never seen anyone else give to her before.

"Nathaniel," she whispered softly, realizing too late that she had unintentionally spoken his name informally, but grateful that she had finally said it to him out loud. "Thank you."

Then, Catherine was gone down the hallway, and Martha was leading Nathaniel out of the house. He heard Catherine's footfalls as she climbed the steps to the second level of the house where her father was resting, but Nathaniel had already stored the letters in his bag and was being rushed out the front door to start his work.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Notes_ : This chapter was quite a pleasure to write, as it is definitely provides Edward with a few moments to really experience the many facets of his personality. As always, I hope I have continued to capture his spirit in addition to the allure of the pirate era. Thanks to everyone reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy.

 _ **Chapter 7**_

 **Scars of the Past**

Running the small knife against the flesh of the yellow fruit known as a pineapple, Edward took the sliver in his mouth and chewed on the thin piece thoughtfully. He wondered what Caroline would think of the exotic fruits he had come across on his journeys, and he briefly imagined sharing in a feast of such luxuries with her.

He found himself grinning like a young lad, remembering his wife's bright smile and the joy in her eyes. For another long moment, he absorbed himself in the beauty of Caroline's memories and longed for her presence. He glanced at his empty bed and found himself lonely without the softness of her skin or the quiet rhythm of her breathing as she slept. He closed his eyes and tried to remember exactly which flower resembled the scent of her golden-coppery hair, and his mind stumbled over recalling the difference between a dandelion and a daylily. He mused that Caroline knew the difference between such flowers, and there were so many days he wished for her knowledge and wisdom on many subjects. Sadly, his recollection of Caroline attempting to teach him botany education was short-lived as his memories were hijacked when his thoughts shifted from his wife's hair to a ribbon that could tie into hair.

With a frustrated sigh, Edward opened his eyes and dabbed the quill into the inkwell on the desk in his cabin, jotting a few notes into the leather-bound book as he swallowed down another slice of the sweetened pulp from the pineapple.

Finishing the quick note he made, Edward thought back on how he had walked with purpose into his cabin the night before and that his crew had known better than to bother him. Then, this morning, he had taken his time getting out of bed, lounging with his memories of his happier mornings with Caroline. Unfortunately, his body's waking needs outweighed his want to reminiscence, and as soon as he had relieved his physiological necessities in the chamber pot by his bed, he had grabbed the fruit to eat while he worked on more of his journal so that he could capture the rest of the details regarding the Ribbon of Samson.

While slicing off another piece of the pineapple, Edward reviewed the notes he jotted down from his conversation with Alexander Robinson last night. With the mid-morning sun streaking into his cabin windows, he was forced to finally awaken and work further on the research he had started in his artifact journal. While the quill moved about the page, he added some of the details he had forgotten to mention last night as well as write down a few questions he still needed answered regarding the Ribbon. One thing he had yet to discover was the color of this particular Ribbon, and nowhere in any of the stories he had heard or was told did anyone mention the type of material or the color of this artifact. He made notes to inquire about that when he next spoke to someone who might have information about it.

Setting the quill down, Edward dug the knife into the fruit again and lifted the knife to his mouth with another piece of fruit balanced upon the blade when he heard a commotion outside his cabin. Refusing to be interrupted by the petty games his crew played to keep themselves entertained, Edward popped the pineapple into his mouth and savored fruit's the sweetness.

" _Captain's busy, miss, but I could use some warm company in my hammock. We'd make it swing nicely._ "

" _Whatever your needs, I'll be more than happy to help you satisfy them._ "

" _Sweetheart, why don't you forget these lust-provoked young ones and see what a real mature man can offer?_ "

The more Edward heard from his crew the more he recognized something was very wrong on his deck as every time one of his men spoke, it grew more lewd. He tightened his fist and turned towards his door to stop his crew before they engaged in something they would regret. If it was one thing he would not tolerate, it was to coerce a woman against her will. A little fun teasing with the woman's permission was one thing, but any further than that, and it crossed a very fine line.

He pulled on the handle to his cabin doors and saw six of his men surrounding a lone, young woman with blonde hair that sat on a loose bun atop her head, and he immediately recognized the daughter of Alexander Robinson. He realized that if Catherine Robinson had made the journey to his ship without her chaperone, it either meant that something extremely concerning had occurred or she was a woman who dared to challenge social norms.

"Mates!" Edward called, giving his voice an authority that offered no room for negotiation. He decided that would play along to assess the situation, as he had learned yesterday not to underestimate the Robinson daughter. "Bring the young lady here."

"Captain gets first dibs," one of the crew muttered amongst his laughing crewmates, as he grabbed the young woman's arm and pulled her along the deck.

Catherine clenched her fists and raised her chin as the crew of the _Jackdaw_ carried on with their attempts to intimidate her. She had assessed that they had underestimated her, and she had chosen at least two of the men as good candidates to relieve of their swords if she needed to defend herself. She had already decided that she would rather damn herself to an execution by the Templars for killing one of these men than letting any of them take her body unwillingly.

However, what she was not prepared for was the sight of Captain Edward Kenway standing in the doorway to his cabin with one arm propped against the doorframe while wearing nothing but his pants and boots and smirking at her in a way that was as unrefined as it was intimidating. Catherine caught herself staring at the numerous pieces of artwork etched onto the captain's skin, and she couldn't help but notice the multitude of scars that had marked his body. She dared to wonder if Nathaniel held a similarly hidden map of a hard life upon his physique, and with an embarrassed breath, she forced that thought from her mind. This was neither the time nor the place to be considering Nathaniel in such a manner.

Bringing her thoughts back to the current moment, Catherine briefly entertained the idea that she had interrupted the captain's liaisons with a woman, and she realized exactly how impulsive it was of her to risk this venture. Just because he had been a gentleman the night before it didn't mean that was who this man was all the time. He was a pirate, after all, and she was foolish to think that because he was an Assassin he would live a life similar to that of a God-fearing pastor.

"Morning, love," Edward smiled, registering that his young guest had the slightest bit of doubt in her determined brown eyes. "Aye, you're needing of me, now aren't you?"

His crew laughed and roared behind her, their implications of the kinds of "needs" they perceived she or Captain Kenway wanted saturating the space between them. Edward raised a hand towards his crew, "Easy, mates. A lady deserves your respect, not your harassment."

Not quite certain of the captain's games with his crew, and refusing to be intimidated, Catherine slipped a folded note out from the pouch at her side. When she brought it forward, she raised her chin to maintain her dignity around the Assassin pirate captain and his crew that were expecting some kind of entertainment out of this exchange.

Taking the paper from Catherine, Edward opened it, still feeling the smirk on his face. However, as he read the message, his smile quickly faded, and when he brought his eyes up to his crew, there was a seriousness in them that told them their playful lesson in female interaction was over.

"Leave us, mates," Edward ordered. "Miss Robinson here will not be treated as such by the likes of you again."

Apologetic grumbles towards their captain filtered through the six crewmen as they took their leave and returned to their tasks, knowing that this young woman was under the captain's protections, and they were not to question it.

Edward looked to the note and asked Catherine, "You are certain of this, lass?"

Catherine pulled the graying lock of hair from her pouch and brought it forward, the clasp still holding the strands. "What doubts would you have of me? This is my mother's hair and the ornament she wore the morning she left. I cannot imagine what she is going through in her captor's hands."

Edward motioned for Catherine to follow him into his cabin after she returned the hair to her pouch and then he closed the door behind them once they were both inside. He reviewed the note again and rubbed his chin in thought. "Aye, love, I'm familiar with the abandoned monastery of where they wish to do the exchange. There's a chamber below the church I once explored. It would be an ideal place to hold your mother prisoner."

Catherine sighed, and the determination that was so etched on her face when she was on deck finally broke into that of a lost child seeking help from the only source she dared to trust. "I spoke to my father before I came here, and he claims that the Ribbon has transferred hands and is unobtainable. The discrepancy I found in his ledger for _Mother's Pearl_ noted that he compensated Captain Robert Jordan one-thousand sixty Reales but for what was not specified. When I questioned Father about this, he refused me any information and told me to drop my inquiries. He is broken-hearted and unable to bear the thought of having Mother killed, but he begged for my understanding that her sacrifice will be a necessary casualty if it keeps the Ribbon out of the hands of the Templars."

Edward set the note upon his table and leaned forward so that he put his weight upon his hands as he thought further about this predicament. He looked to his bound journal in which he had been putting together his notes about the Ribbon.

Catherine found it nearly impossible to control her roaming eyes as they moved about the _Jackdaw's_ cabin, her curiosity about this pirate captain overriding her senses for the moment. She caught sight of an open travel chest full of clothing and a stand where his long coat with the hood and his thick leather armor was hung and awaiting usage. Upon another small table were his paired cutlasses, a number of muskets, a hollow wooden pipe, and a set of blades attached to leather bands. She felt her forehead crease in curiosity at the small, retractable blades on the bands and tried to understand how such a contraption would even work.

"Aye, the Templars will know if we try to bluff them," Edward said quietly.

His voice pulled Catherine from her studying of his weaponry, and her eyes returned to the pirate. She saw more artwork across his back, and even more scars lining his skin. She briefly wondered if this man had someone to care about him, someone who could look beyond the signs of the hard life he had lived, someone who could give him compassion and love.

Thinking of her own scars, Catherine felt Nathaniel creep into her thoughts again, and she forced aside this morning's happenings, as she realized that her mother had been experiencing fear and suffering while she was hopelessly elated in the courier's company. Feeling another wave of guilt, Catherine came to the conclusion that she didn't even know if Nathaniel would reject her if he knew of the marks she hid from a life of learning techniques she could never use again.

"Captain Kenway, I did all I could to convince Martha to allow me to meet with you privately, and I wouldn't be here if I wasn't forbidden to save my mother myself," Catherine pleaded, as she felt her shoulders fall in guilt and her hands wring in worry before her. "My mother's abduction has left me with a helplessness I've never known before."

Edward turned towards the young woman, and in the single day that he had known her, this was the first time he saw that she was no longer strong and determined. The Templars had managed to crush and defeat her by taking someone of value and forcing her to be unable to do anything about it. He could see the imprisoned woman in her eyes begging to be set free so that she could save those she cared about, and it was killing her from within that she was chained to a life of inaction.

"Whatever choices your father made regarding the artifact are his to own, lass," Edward explained softly. "Your mother does not belong as a part of this, and I can get her somewhere safe. But, I will need one of thing of you."

"I can pay you…"

"No," Edward interrupted as he moved towards the weapons sitting upon the small table and picked up the smaller cutlass that was part of his paired weapons, "You save her with me."

 **The Sparring Match**

Catherine stood in shock at the very idea that Captain Kenway would even humor the risk of her imprisonment by asking her to join him in rescuing her mother. She watched his hand slide over the handle of the smaller cutlass, and before she realized what she was doing, her hand was reaching out and catching the hilt. It was purely on instinct that she had caught the cutlass when he had thrown it in her direction, a simple technique from the days of her fencing lessons.

For the briefest of moments, she studied the way it molded into her hand, the metal cool to the touch but quickly heating under her skin to match her body temperature.

A shadow of movement brought her eyes back before her, and moving in ways her body had never forgotten, Catherine raised the cutlass before her in a defensive maneuver, catching the captain's attack before he sliced into her.

"Aye, love, now let's see what you remember," Edward said, pleased with the young woman's reflexes. He stepped back and dropped the larger cutlass he was holding before him to give her a moment to understand. "There is no Templar in here to bear witness."

Catherine flexed her fingers along the hilt and brought her eyes to the pirate captain, realizing that he was no longer the man of the sea that he was on deck. His eyes had taken on a different glint, one of a man who had experiences and much practice – a man who knew death and how to deliver it.

Taking in a heavy breath, Catherine set her defensive stance and cleansed her thoughts of everything but this moment. She studied her opponent as she had been taught, seeking the distinct movement of his opening attack. She had been trained to watch carefully for a muscle twitch, an eye shift, a ripple in his clothing – anything that would give her a signal that would provide her with insight regarding from which direction his first strike would originate.

Unexpectedly, Captain Kenway winked at her, and then it was Catherine who had been distracted. Trying to recover that lost moment, she did all she could to block his sudden attack. His movements were fast, and as soon as she had blocked high, he brought the cutlass down low. If he swung left, she blocked it, only to have him slide his sword free and attack again from another angle.

Catherine took the pause he left her in his attack and launched an offensive of her own, just to give him enough of a distraction so that she could spin herself out of his reach. The technique worked, and it gave her the necessary moment to catch her breath. She found herself lodged against the edge of his bed and her leg braced against one of the chests in his room so that she wouldn't trip.

"We need more room, lass," Edward realized. "I want to see what you can really do."

The crew was suddenly yelling at his door, asking if he was all right.

"Be out in a moment, mates!" Edward shouted in response.

"Please don't," Catherine begged, feeling the fear in her eyes. "I told you I can't be seen."

Edward opened the door to his cabin and caught some of his crew peering in with interest. "Easy, mates. It's just a friendly exercise."

The men turned away, unconcerned after seeing that their captain had displayed no injuries and that it was only the young woman they had teased earlier who still inhabited his cabin.

"The _Jackdaw_ is secluded, lass, and my crew cares nothing about your presence or activities, so long as I have ordered it," Edward explained. "Aye, now if you want your mother saved, you need to start taking back what these Templar bastards originally took from you."

Catherine looked down to the shorter cutlass in her hand and thought of how using it gave her a sense of freedom she had long missed. She looked to the craftsmanship that had been put into the blade and thought of her sword that was forever hidden in its prison in her secluded practice room. Then, she brought her eyes up to the Assassin that stood beside the door to the bright sun and how she longed to relive the lessons she was taught in the fresh air, rather than in a musty dungeon.

Steadying herself, Catherine watched the captain slip out onto the deck of his ship, and she followed, feeling the breeze of the salty sea air push the strands of her hair near her neck. She studied his movements, taking care to observe how he found a place out towards the middle of the wooden deck, swinging the larger cutlass in wide arcs and twirling his wrist now that he had more than enough open space to loosen his muscles.

Edward looked to the young Robinson daughter and noticed how she reluctantly followed him. He was aware of his crew scattering themselves about the deck, seeking places that offered the best view. Their eyes were wrought with curiosity, wondering why their captain would raise a weapon to a young woman who never had any familiarity with any of them. But, what held their inquisitiveness even more was that the young woman was not backing down or seeking to leave the skirmish they were preparing to have.

Catherine remained ever aware of the crewmen around her, despite the fact that she was not giving them her attention. Instead, she trusted her instincts to alert her to the sound of any of them moving closer while she dulled her sights down for a moment to prepare for the sparring match about to take place.

Stepping onto the deck with care, Catherine felt for the movement of the ship beneath her shoes and the flow of the breeze in the air as the ocean waves gently swayed the wooden vessel. While she was grateful that the heels of her shoes were not unreasonably high, it still took her a moment to completely grasp the rhythm of the ship, now that she had the ocean waves surrounding her and confusing her senses. She knew that Captain Kenway was fully accustomed to experiencing this water movement, and it would give him an advantage against her land-locked legs. Still, she took the extra moment to twist her wrist as she held the cutlass within it and studied how the ship bobbed as she moved her feet and her arm. Catherine used the open space to really expand her practice arcs, a part of her still wishing she had her sword, even though she was grateful that the captain had thought enough to give her a weapon that could equally match her own.

Expanding her sights, Catherine took in that deep breath to cleanse away the fear of being caught by the wandering eyes of the Templars. Instead, she brought her focus down to the Assassin pirate standing before her. She gave the short cutlass one final spin before setting her feet in a defensive stance that would allow her to maintain her balance as the ship bobbed against the dock.

Edward focused his attention on his young adversary and set himself in a stance that would allow him to attack first. He saw Catherine settle herself for his opening maneuver, and he decided to deliver. His first attack came fast at her left side, and she blocked it as easily as she had in his cabin. But, this battle was no longer about sizing up each other's strengths, rather it was about finding just where Catherine's limits in her skills existed.

The moment of the initial attack passed, and then it was a symphony of their weapons as they rung across the deck of the _Jackdaw_. Catherine and Edward took up the entire space of the wooden deck, the many faces of the crewmen and the blues of the sky and the sea blurring around them. Their movements were fast, sharp, and part of an intricate dance to music that only the two of them could hear. The crewmen roared their approvals, taking on the role of an audience enthralled in the show they were receiving.

What caught Edward more than any of the skills that Catherine had been taught was that her brown eyes had a thrill in them that had finally been liberated. While she concentrated on their sparring match, there was an unbridled joy that he had not seen in her before. Catherine Robinson was a woman of action, and he had just unleashed who she truly was beneath the subdued exterior she had been forced to live within. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Nathaniel Coles could even handle a woman of Catherine's caliber, but then Edward remembered his persistence while he had pursued an equally strong Caroline.

Ducking beneath Captain Kenway's high swing aimed at her shoulder, Catherine brought her borrowed cutlass up and caught his blade against hers. For the first time in over a year, she felt her breathing growing tight and her muscles stretching in a way that had been denied to her. Fighting with the captain reminded her of her lessons with her first sword master, after she had abandoned the useless fencing lessons. However, it was the lessons of her second master that taught her how to duck and use her womanly size to slip out of her opponent's reach.

Edward saw that Catherine was well-versed in her skills, and that she was not giving up the fight that easily. He continued in his attack, forcing her to defend herself again and again before she could get a moment to recover, and Catherine had met his challenges.

For as much as she had been trained, though, Captain Kenway had far more experience, and Catherine knew it the moment his cutlass came around towards her neck. She managed to block the strike, but that left her open and vulnerable, and she instantly regretted it the moment she had done so. The captain' leg swept behind hers, and she landed hard on her back, looking up at the silhouette of the pirate, his features dark against the bright sunshine.

She felt the coolness of the blade against her neck as he knelt beside her, and she fought to shallowly catch her breath so that she would not induce a cut on her skin.

The crewmen laughed and roared at the sight of their captain besting another opponent before they broke up their little groups and returned to their duties.

"You've had good instructors, lass," Edward complimented as he looked into her brown eyes, noting that the free woman was quickly receding back to her prison. He removed the blade from her neck and held out his hand to help her up. "I may have the start of a plan."

Catherine took the Assassin's rough and worn hand in hers as he assisted her to stand, reminded that her hands were not entirely soft either. Her training and her continued underground practices had not lessened the calluses upon her skin, and she had done all she could to keep it a secret.

Pushing the stray thoughts aside, Catherine safely presented the cutlass back to Captain Kenway as her instructors had taught her. "I took a risk to do this with you, and unless you have some way to make me unseen I may have just had my last sparring match."

"Aye, love, the Templars need not know that you have taken up the fight again," Edward explained as he took the cutlass from her and thought of Mary Read. "I once had a good friend who kept herself disguised quite well for a long time. I will need you to return here just before dusk with a few items, and then we will have everything we require to free your mother."


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Notes_ : Thanks to everyone who is reading this, and I hope you continue to enjoy. As always, I hope I have continued to capture Edward's essence in addition to the allure of the pirate era. On a side note, please feel free to leave a review, if you are inclined. I always take the time to send a personal reply, offering my thanks for your interest.

 _ **Chapter 8**_

 **The Curious Courier**

Nathaniel weaved back into the crowd that bustled about the streets and set his sights for his next destination, but his thoughts were not entirely on his job, despite how he had obeyed Catherine's instructions to go about his work.

He did as expected and had delivered the first packet of letters, including waiting for a reply from Mister Williams, as he had been forced to remain seated on a small bench outside Mister Williams' opulent office. Nathaniel's only companion in that hallway was the vase of freshly-picked bright, red flowers that sat upon a small wooden table. While their fragrance was sweet and lovely, Nathaniel could not help his thoughts from returning to his encounter this morning with Catherine, and even though he tried to reread from his journal the versus that he had written in his moments of solitude, it was still the longest twenty minutes of his life because he could not keep his thoughts off Catherine Robinson.

Unending, it was that same maddening moment that he relived, feeling the touch of her warm skin as his fingers brushed her hand and seeing the sheer connection he swore was in her eyes. He hadn't remembered moving closer to her, but was it she who had moved closer to him? Did he dare think that her eyes had dropped to his lips for that one instant, or was he imagining it? He wondered why his other encounters with women had never caused these same bewildering effects. His other womanly liaisons had brought the customary anticipation and excitement, as would be expected, but something about Catherine made the world around him recede into a distant concern, leaving just the two of them to each other.

But then fate had disrupted that enchantment once again, and Martha had come between them. Unfortunately, it was more than just a chaperone's role that the servant had played. It was the look of hopelessness in Catherine's eyes at the contents of the letter she had received about her mother's abduction that had broken her in some way Nathaniel could not imagine.

He hadn't meant to imply that Catherine could not handle whatever it was she sought with Captain Kenway. It was just that he had never been exposed to a woman who thought nothing of rushing into danger to save another. He felt like he should have risked his employment and accompanied her, but he also knew that doing so would have destroyed any respect she had for him. All he could do was offer hope for success in her excursion, and in reply, she had offered to him that grateful sparkle in her eyes that he had identified was an acceptance he had only hoped to know from her.

What Nathaniel did not expect was to hear his name spoken without shame or reservation from her lips. Her voice was confident in its gentleness, and there was an appreciation she granted him when he surrendered his desire to protect her. All Catherine wanted was to bring her mother back safely from whatever abductors had taken her, and Nathaniel had found himself wishing he had the opportunity to have known his own mother. Unfortunately, destiny simply never allowed him the close connection with his mother that Catherine had with hers.

In fact, Nathaniel had barely even known his mother, as she died in complications during the birth of his still-born sister when he was seven. His older brother and sister were already in their teenage years and had taken to raising him when their father was busy working the fields and maintaining their farm. It was a hard life for a young child, but his family had made the best with the situation they were given. His father passed away when Nathaniel was thirteen, and the three of them had maintained the farm. However, when Nathaniel was sixteen years old, both his older siblings had married, and they had expected him to tend to the farm on his own.

Much to their dismay, Nathaniel used the profits from the crops and livestock to pay for a tutor that would teach him to read and write. When he was finally ready to move on, he had offered to turn the farm back to his siblings, but neither wanted the responsibility, and he had sold it so that he could find employment elsewhere. He had found freedom when he turned twenty years of age in the form of a trading company that had opportunities for travel.

Eventually, he found himself signing up with a merchant guild recruiter who had promised unique opportunities in the Caribbean, and Nathaniel jumped at the chance. He had been grateful for the assignment with the Robinson contract and after his initial encounter with Catherine, he had never looked back on his life, despite how his siblings were always in his thoughts for a good life.

Pausing for a moment in his travels throughout the streets of Nassau, Nathaniel adjusted the shoulder strap on his messenger bag. His eyes scanned over the people moving about, suddenly catching the movement of a green coat. Even though the pickpocket had probably spent Catherine's Reales immediately upon robbing them, Nathaniel felt there was something more about this purse thief than what lie on the surface.

Slipping through the crowd, he watched the green coat's movements, and followed from a distance. The green coat ducked down an alley, and Nathaniel stood on the corner of the alley. He dared a peek into the shadows and saw the green coat talking to a dark-haired man in an outfit of a blue so dark it bordered on black. However, the man was too far into the shadows for Nathaniel to discern anything particular regarding his facial features.

Turning his head back to the streets, Nathaniel stood against the wall and took out a handkerchief. He made a show of taking off his hat and wiping down his face and neck, giving the impression that he needed a break from the journeys of his day. However, his ears were sharp, and he listened very carefully, strangely surprised that one of the voices belonged to a woman.

The woman started first. " _The package was delivered to the Robinson home, and the servant took it inside. Robinson's daughter left shortly afterwards._ "

" _Where did she go?_ "

" _She was heading north of the island, but our scout lost her in the crowds._ "

The man's voice was soft-spoken but held a twisted air of admiration suddenly. " _She is as stubborn as her father. I expected her to have surrendered it to us herself, but it appears that Alexander has chosen to keep the Ribbon's location a mystery, even from her._ "

" _It would not surprise me if she went to recover the Ribbon herself. Those mercenaries we employed were a little too aggressive with Robinson, and I heard he had been badly injured the other night._ "

" _I do not think Alexander would be so willing to just give up this artifact. He has far too much knowledge about its use, and he has taken exceptional measures to ensure it stays hidden._ " Changing subjects, the man continued, " _I trust you have caught no glimpse or have heard any news of Captain Jordan? His ship remains in dock, but he continues his concealment._ "

" _It's my guess that Robinson had managed to hide him, and I suspect he has the Ribbon with him_ ," the green-cloaked woman offered.

" _I would hope for Robinson's sake that this ploy with Mistress Robinson works itself out. She would be a wasted and useless player in this, especially if her abduction does not bring about the artifact._ "

" _I will work on putting together a crew to aid in our hunt so that we can begin searching after tomorrow morning,_ " the woman offered.

The man thought about it for a moment before explaining, " _Let us wait before we start spreading our resources too thin. Your skills would be most useful by returning to our prisoner and ensuring she is safely guarded. There isn't much we can do until the morning. Unfortunately, I have been tasked with an errand of my own so I would not be able to accompany you._ "

Nathaniel hurried to return the handkerchief to its rightful place in the pocket inside his brown jacket. He felt a flash of anger and confusion, as the conversation that the man and woman had brought a mention of Catherine, and it struck what Edward had called his defensive nerve. Part of him wanted to run into the alley and heroically put an end to whatever scheme these two had planned for Catherine, but Nathaniel did not know if they were armed, and what little defensive maneuvers he knew were from instinctively saving his own hide, as he was untrained in any notable techniques.

Waiting another moment and taking a deep breath, Nathaniel thought about grabbing the green coat as she exited the alley. He had so many questions about artifacts and ribbons and what exactly Catherine had to do with any of it, but he instead ducked into the shadows realizing that if these people were as treacherous as Captain Kenway warned, then he would put himself into a dangerous conflict for which he had no real knowledge. He could not even guess at the kind of trouble that Catherine was involved in with these people, and even his encounter with Edward the other night did not offer any kind of explanation.

Feeling the weight of his bag on his shoulder, Nathaniel remembered that he still had to handle the tasks that Master Robinson had put forth, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Catherine. He moved out of the shadows, but stopped short when the dark-clad man appeared from the alley. The man glanced around him and then set his eyes on Nathaniel. His irises were a dark shade of brown so intense they may as well have been black, and the way they bore into Nathaniel, he felt pinned to the spot on the ground where he stood. The man's jet-black hair was pulled into a severely tight ponytail at the back of his neck, but his face was remarkably handsome despite the coldness in his eyes. Nathaniel felt himself back against the wall of the building at the sight of this man in his mid-thirties who walked like a demon.

"You should run along and handle your packages, boy," the man spoke with a voice that was soft yet deadly. "It's not wise to hide amongst the shadows on Nassau."

Deciding not to question this strange man, Nathaniel took a wide berth and ran out of the confines near the alley. He did not look back, but continued onto his next destination with the letters he was required to deliver. He could not even begin to imagine the kind of trouble that surrounded Catherine, and he started to understand why she would consider employing a pirate. There was no man sane enough who would even humor the idea of protecting her from someone who exuded such power and oppression – no one except a pirate that would take any job for a profit.

 **The Robinson Lad**

Catherine dipped her hands into the bowl of water before her and then pulled her hair tightly from her face, flattening it as best she could under her wet fingers. She had never pulled her hair so severely tight to her scalp before, but the alternative of cutting her hair off was just not an option. She didn't mind occasionally having her hair trimmed when it got unruly at the ends, but she had no intention to ever shorten it above her shoulders. It was just not something she was comfortable doing, and she would instead continue through this routine.

With a shaky breath, she tied the string against the back of her neck and then braided the length of her blonde locks. With another string, she cinched the hair tightly, ensuring the braid would not come free.

Slipping on the white shirt that had been cut plainly for a man's physique, she kept her hair beneath the material as she tied the strings near the collar to cover her chest. She then slipped on the brown leather vest that had even less shape than the shirt. She looped the strings together on the vest and tightened them so that they would not come free. Captain Kenway had told her that the leather was stiff enough to help protect her should she get struck by a blade, but it was not impenetrable. A strong enough direct strike would kill her just as easily, but a slice would deflect better than without the vest.

Smoothing her hands over the vest, Catherine looked down to the plain and brown-dyed wide-legged pants. They were sewn from a material stiffer than she was accustomed to wearing, and her legs felt unusually bare without a pair of pantaloons to cover them.

She saw how her old pair of rain-wear boots peeked out from beneath her pants, and she realized that they appeared anything but feminine. They were made to rest near mid-shin and were without any adornments. While her shoes usually had a small bow or other touch of feminine charm, her wide-heeled black rain-wear boots were made to simply keep her feet dry.

Looking to the calluses on her hands, Catherine was unable to prevent the memories of this morning's encounter with Nathaniel from breaking into her ruminations. She had merely hoped to share another moment with him, a chance for them to talk openly and without the prying eyes or ears of her guardians. It would have been the ideal opportunity to learn more about him and, perhaps, be more than just distant glances and formal greetings.

She had not expected the flush of warmth to radiate throughout her from his mere touch, but that brush of his fingers had stolen her breath in a way nothing else ever had. She wondered if she had dared to lean towards him, or if it was he who had moved closer to her. She remembered barely glancing at his lips, wondering how they would feel against hers and wishing he would just lean a little closer to end the maddening anticipation. Then, Martha had been forced to intervene with the ill-fated news of Sarah's abduction, and Catherine could not even imagine what would have happened between her and Nathaniel if that moment lingered.

She barely knew the courier and yet he seemed to unknowingly hold a power over her that she did not understand.

Catherine feared if he learned about her training, her scars, and her past, he would walk away, feeling either intimidated or domineering, no different than that suitor, Samuel Barnes had, after her father had been forced to introduce him to her after their arrival on Nassau.

At that time, Catherine had not understood why Alexander had suddenly attempted to align her with that overbearing man, especially when they had agreed otherwise that she would quietly handle the family business, making a suitor her secondary priority. However, after that night with Captain Kenway in which her father openly admitted that he had been manipulated by the Templars, she understood why Alexander was forced to introduce Samuel to her. She didn't know then that Samuel was a punishment the Templars had attempted to force upon Alexander, and that it was her father who had kept him in such limited contact with her. She had been ever grateful that Samuel had placed himself on the wrong side of a knife in a bar fight, and if not for her father's admittance of the crime, she never would have suspected he was behind such a manipulation to protect her.

She had begun to believe that there would never be a man who would not try to suppress her desire for freedom, and for a moment she thought that Nathaniel would be no different. But, he had surprised her, as he did not dissuade her in her plan. He did not play the role of a man enforcing his rules upon her, and in his words was not a reprimand, but an acceptance. It was why she could not stop herself, and had spoken his name, informally, with a gratefulness she had never given anyone else.

"Aye, lass, are you decent yet?" Edward asked as he stood with his back to her in his cabin while she changed.

Shaking her thoughts of Nathaniel away when they would only hinder her mission, Catherine picked up the bright red sash and wrapped it around her waist. She turned around and brought her eyes up to the long blue coat and brown leather that now covered the tattooed and scarred Assassin pirate. Unlike this morning when he was half-naked and provocative in his mannerisms, there was something intimidating yet regal about him while he wore his captain's coat with its armament of blades and muskets. She had briefly dared earlier to look for the strange leather-banded blades, but after a few seconds, she decided not to pursue it and give Edward the wrong impression of her roaming eyes.

"I'm dressed, but I would certainly not call me decent," Catherine replied, realizing just how much of a lady she had been raised to be.

This was her first time ever wearing men's clothing, and she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it, but for as liberated as she might have felt, she still preferred the luxuries of her own wardrobe. She liked the idea of being a lady on the outside but a fighter in disguise, and it was quite a different impression as she was now a reversal of that façade.

Edward laughed as he turned around and looked about the young woman. He picked up a wide, red handkerchief that matched the sash around her waist. "Make sure you cover your hair, lad."

Taking the cloth from the Assassin, she smiled at his change of pronouns as she folded the handkerchief and then set it upon her head before tying it to cover the last of her braided hair. Finally, she lifted her sword belt from the table upon which it laid, and she set it over the red sash at her waist. She belted it only tight enough to not fall, taking Captain Kenway's earlier advice that she not accentuate her curves but be certain to hide them as much as possible. The less anyone would suspect she was a woman beneath her disguise, the less anyone would suspect that Catherine Robinson had defied her Templar oppressors.

"I dare say I'm scared," Catherine breathed as her hands continued shaking. She clenched them into fists to try and settle down the trembling.

Edward looked her over, making sure there were no obvious woman-like attributes that they had forgotten to cover. There wasn't much they could do about the feminine angles of her face, other than maybe streaking her skin with mud. Still, she looked like a fresh-faced lad who had just signed up for a sea-faring journey without any inkling of what would bestow him the moment he was off land, and that would be good enough.

"Scared is good, lad. It means you know you're not invincible," Edward offered, making a purposeful habit of using the pronoun to ensure he addressed Catherine as a male crew member. He had no intention to betray her to the Templars, and the only way he could mentally solidify that she was a man was to talk to her as one.

"I don't know what I would do if we fail," Catherine breathed, considering if she should force a deeper tone into her voice but ultimately deciding it would not work. She could not consistently keep her voice changed to match her looks in so a short time, and she would just remain as silent as possible the moment they ventured off the _Jackdaw_.

She discovered that there was a strange contradiction of tightness and freedom without the stiff corset she always wore beneath her dresses. Being wrapped as she was in the leather to hide her breasts, rather than accentuate them the way a corset does, gave her a sense of nakedness despite all her layers.

"My mother should never have been involved in any of this," she said sadly, also knowing that if something happened and she screamed out of instinct, this charade was over, and the Templars would have won in more ways than just killing Sarah Robinson.

"Aye, which is why I need you with me," Edward explained. "Your mother would be more willing to come with us if your familiar face is there to encourage her."

"Do you really think she would recognize me as I am now?" Catherine offered with a slight smile, doing her best to push aside her nerves and failing miserably.

Edward smirked back, putting genuine warmth into his voice to encourage Catherine that their mission would be successful. "Aye, a mother knows her children, by sight, by sound, or by other instinctive means. Or, so I've heard."

Feeling her smile fade, Catherine picked up the note from the captain's desk and read through it once more to give her courage, strength, anger…something…anything other than the fear of failure.

 _Sarah Robinson for the artifact.  
The Ruins that were once the Sanctuary of the Holy Son.  
Sunrise tomorrow.  
Or, the blade cuts deeper than her hair, and we send you her scalp._

"Time to go, mate," Edward spoke softly and put an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

Crumpling the note in her fist, it was the feeling of vengeance that won out, and Catherine had decided that she would not let the people who took her mother simply walk away with the opportunity to harm anyone else again. She would stop those who she could and then she would get her mother to the rendezvous point that Kenway had arranged. After that, it would be up to select members of his crew to take Sarah Robinson to a place where Kenway had assured that her mother would be safe and hidden from the Templars, remaining under the protection of Captain Kenway's associates.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Notes_ : Thanks, once again, to everyone who is reading this, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. As always, I hope I have continued to capture Edward's essence in addition to the allure of the pirate era and the Assassin's Creed mythos.

 _ **Chapter 9**_

 **A Regretful Confession**

Edward raised his hand in the twilight of the evening, ignoring the buzz of a mosquito as it brushed by his ear. As long as the parasite kept on its way and didn't return towards him for a chance at a meal, he was inclined to just leave it alone. He suspected there would be plenty of bloodshed later, and it would be best to save his strength for humans, rather than the infinite amount of insects that inhabit the island.

Glancing behind him in the shrubbery, he took a quick assessment of Alexander Robinson's daughter as she crouched behind him. She was far from the sophisticated young woman he had initially met, as she still wore the disguise of men's clothing, and her hair remained covered and hidden beneath the bandanna. Her eyes were wide, full of the uncertainty that she had the capability to use her skills to rescue her mother. However, there was also something dark and intimidating within them, showing whoever crossed her that she was not in a forgiving mood for what they had done.

Laying a hand on her sword as it rested against her side, Catherine brought her eyes to the pirate captain, aware of the confidence in them. He had a certainty that she did not possess, and she prayed it was because he knew far more than she did.

In a very low voice, he told her, "Stay here while I clear the path. I'll motion for you when it's safe."

Catherine took a hard breath and nodded her understanding. As Captain Kenway slipped into the darkness, she nestled against the trunk of a tree and peered around its width to see just exactly what it was an Assassin was capable of doing.

Slipping into another set of thickly-grown shrubbery, Edward ducked low so that he would not be seen. He watched the two men, each of them giving off the characteristics of paid mercenaries, rather than carefully trained Templar guardians. Their bodies stood loose and bored, and their talk was of past conquests, in which their female participants were not willing. At the current moment, they were making bets on which courtesan was the hardest to tame at the brothel. Chatting amongst themselves, they made plans to take their payment for this uninteresting but easy work of standing outside a ruined monastery, and they haggled over how they wanted to share the young woman that neither could agree to let the other have.

Edward considered his best course of action with these mercenaries, and he decided to quietly handle these two. Bringing the blowpipe from his back, he used sleeping darts to temporarily subdue the men. Certain there was no one else in the area, he bolted towards them and with the hidden blade, he silently ended their meager existences. He didn't see much sense in taking a woman against her will, and there was a satisfaction in knowing that the female gender had two less predators to harm them.

Dragging the bodies, Edward hauled them into the underbrush where they were not visible. He then motioned for Catherine to join him as he stood crouched low beneath the broken wall of the monastery.

Scurrying through the underbrush, Catherine caught up to Edward and set herself into a similarly low position, her voice soft but also concerned that maybe he was too aggressive in his tactics. "Was it necessary to kill them? Surely, we could have…"

"They spoke of conquests without a woman's consent, lad. It was a necessity to remove them," Edward dismissed quietly.

Catherine's eyes dropped to the blood stain on the ground in the faded light. It was a splotch of darkness upon the sandy ground, a stain that would always sit in her memories. It was the fact that she had never been exposed to death so closely before that had her nerves rattled and prevented her from finding the calm she always had when she fought her shadows.

"Captain Kenway, I've never killed anyone before," she regretfully told him, feeling an urge to be sick.

Even on that fateful night in England over a year ago, Catherine had wanted simply to defend that mother and her son by scaring the men attacking them. The worst she considered was hurting them so they would be unable to chase after anyone. She would have killed them if it came to a matter of defending her own life, and for some naïve reason, she had not believed that they would have continued in their attack once they had a willing opponent. It was her innocence of playing the champion that had gotten her life and that of her parents' more destroyed than she had ever considered or intended. And, her shadow fighting was just simply that. She had no real adversary in those imaginings, but she always came out the righteous winner. She was the hero of her own stories and nothing more. She came to realize just how much of a naïve and foolish girl she truly was.

"I know, lad," Edward offered in return. "I saw it in your eyes this morning, but I didn't bring you with me to make your first kill. I brought you with me to ensure your mother's trust."

Catherine shifted her eyes to her trembling hands, knowing that if she had never crossed paths with the Templars, she would not have the fear within her that she now carried. It was one thing to stand up in the face of what appeared as two cowardly tormenters, but it was another thing entirely to know she was defying an entire organization of oppressors.

The heat of Edward's hand on her shoulder pushed away the residual fear that ran through her, and she brought her eyes to him.

"Look, mate, your mother is going to be frightened and possibly in some kind of emotional shock. She's going to need you more than I will, but if I do need someone at my back, I know you're worthy of that task. Now is not the time to get second-thoughts, and if you've got them, we'd be best to head back right now and forget about this and just let that innocent woman in there die at sunrise."

Catherine felt the familiar burn of vengeance flow through her at the thought of whoever these Templars were just killing her mother for nothing more than a supposed-magical piece of fabric. Whatever doubts she had earlier finally receded to the pit of where she wanted them to stay. She had to save her mother, and there was no one else to save her who would be even remotely as capable as this Edward Kenway.

"No, we must continue," Catherine declared more confidently than she felt. "My mother will not die by their hands."

"Good," Edward agreed. "Aye now, there's a tunnel just beyond the door to the right. I'll stay in front to clear the path. You keep moving behind me and watch my back. After we descend the stairs, there will be an open room. I would suspect that's where they are keeping her."

 **The Little Pirate**

Edward kept low as he crept through the doorway that was attached to the broken wall, and Catherine remained close to him as he had instructed. It was darker inside without the moonlight to guide their path, and Edward had to take a brief moment to adjust his eyes accordingly. In the dim light, he looked for shadows or movement, his irises darting around the area they were within and grateful there were no other adversaries at the moment.

Spotting the doorway he had predicted was on the right, he shifted his direction towards it, aware of Catherine moving in sync with him. He remained crouched as he paused on the outside of the frame of the door. Craning his neck, he peered into the doorway and saw the steps that led to the tunnel below. Again, there was no movement or any guards, which led Edward to believe that the Templars holding Sarah Robinson did not expect any confrontation. They had placed their trust in either Alexander giving in to their demands or in having to prove their point by killing Sarah at sunrise. They were not preparing for an infiltration and a rescue, and that gave Edward the advantage.

"All right, lad, the closer we get to the open room beneath, the more likely we will encounter our next confrontation," Edward whispered softly.

Catherine took a hard but quiet breath and thought of a long-ago memory of her mother brushing her hair when she was a twelve-year old child. Sarah had been idly chatting about her oldest daughter's pregnancy, speculating whether she would be expecting a grandson or a granddaughter. She had asked Catherine about her feelings on the upcoming baby, and Catherine had broached the subject of wanting to learn sword techniques instead. She said she wanted to be able to protect herself as well as her impending niece or nephew. Sarah had laughed, her brown eyes twinkling, and she had told Catherine, " _You're going to be the death of me, my little pirate_."

Catherine now hoped her mother's words from so long ago were not a premonition, and as she looked to the hooded Assassin in the dark ruins of an old sanctuary, something deep inside her arose. She would not let these Templars make her mother's words come true, and if she was going to be the little pirate that her mother had once accused her of being, then she was going to ensure Sarah Robinson was smuggled to the safety that Captain Kenway had promised.

"What do you want me to do?" Catherine asked, her voice barely audible.

Edward noticed the hardness in the young woman's eyes, and that the fear she carried earlier had receded. It was not gone, but he saw that Catherine had found something that would inspire her to keep her anxiety at bay, and that was good enough for him.

"For now, lad, just follow my lead," Edward told her. He had no doubt that if the moment required it, she would instinctively raise her sword.

Moving again, Edward placed his boots on the steps leading downward. His footfalls were deliberate and quiet, and he could feel behind him that Catherine was being equally careful in her steps.

By the time they were half-way down the stairs, they heard voices, and Edward raised his hand silently to pause in their movements. He wanted to assess just how many people there were, and as he listened to the conversation, he had counted two voices and an occasional snicker from the male voice.

The voice Edward recognized as the pickpocket named Abigail carried softly against the stones. " _Your ordeal ends in the morning_."

A series of sniffles accompanied Sarah's words. " _Why me? Why do this to me?_ "

Catherine felt her body tense, and her fists instantly clenched. Whatever residual fear she had earlier had just pushed itself into a depth where she could no longer feel it as her anger now took over where that fear had been sitting.

Edward instantly pressed his hand against the wall before the young Robinson woman and turned to face her, hoping she was able to ignore the amused laughter of the man listening to the two women in the chamber below them. Edward's other hand raised, and his index finger crossed over his lips, silently warning Catherine to hold their position.

"Patience," he warned.

" _Because your husband had wronged us, and I have unfinished business with your daughter,_ " Abigail calmly replied to Sarah's questions.

" _Can I watch your unfinished business with her daughter?_ " the man chuckled.

" _Stow it, Ezekiel_ ," Abigail warned, " _Or the only unfinished business you watch will be that of your bowels being gutted by my blade._ "

Catherine took a startled breath. She could not ever remember crossing paths with an Abigail before. She wondered if it was possible that this woman had her confused with someone else. However, her thoughts were cut short as Edward removed his hand from her path and motioned for them to move again.

As they neared the bottom of the steps, the room opened as Edward had predicted earlier. It was not large, and it was reminiscent of a large bedroom that looked like a treasure chamber made from wood and stone. It was long missing the monetary gains it had once accumulated when the sanctuary was still active many years ago. The low ceilings were just high enough for a large man to walk beneath without hitting his head, and the beams had seen their usage, as some of the wooden pillars had begun to split over time.

The green-cloaked Abigail sat atop a barrel and leaned against the wall, her features hidden beneath the large hat she always wore. Her face was masked by the shadow it cast from the single torch that burned on a wall near where the three were situated.

Sarah was crumpled on the floor before Abigail, with her arms pulled behind her back and tied to the pillar she was propped against. Her once-blue dress was grimy, and the skirts of it sat in a heap around her legs while her graying blonde hair was gritty and dirty, the frayed ends sticking out in all directions after having been cut violently from her head. Clean streaks marked her cheeks where her tears had washed away the dirt on her face.

The man that Catherine surmised was Ezekiel had moved about the room to stand and stretch his arms behind his back. She couldn't see much of his face, but she did notice he no longer had any hair. Whether that was by choice because he shaved it off or if it was just no longer there, she couldn't tell, and she didn't dare get close enough to him to find out. His stature spoke of a hardened man who took whatever jobs would pay, and his clothing was lightweight with just enough protective leather to guard specific areas on his body.

" _I thought I was going to have more fun than just chopping off her hair, but since you won't let me mess with her, I'm going to take a nap_ ," he complained as he settled onto a blanket that was on top of a series of wooden planks, providing a make-shift bed.

" _Rest up, Mistress Robinson_ ," Abigail told her as she pressed her back against the wall and tilted her hat forward to cover her face. " _At sunrise you'll find out just how much your husband values you_."

Edward raised his hand again to stop Catherine from going forward. Softly, he repeated, "Patience."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Notes_ : As usual, thank you to anyone who is reading and enjoying this little tale. I truly appreciate the interest.

 _ **Chapter 10**_

 **The Dangerous Dance**

The wait seemed longer than it truly was, and neither Edward nor Catherine had a timepiece on them that would have counted the minutes they sat in silence. However, they utilized that time to carefully listen for any arrivals above them in the stairway. To their relief, the abandoned sanctuary had remained that way, and it gave them the advantage of only having to deal with the two captors who were guarding an imprisoned Sarah Robinson.

Holding his paired cutlasses in each hand, Edward silently signaled for Catherine to move towards her mother. He followed closely, keeping his eyes and his awareness open. He had the fleeting thought to slit Abigail and Ezekiel's throats while they slept, but he wasn't sure if it was his ego for a decent fight or his morals that stopped him from doing that. Still, neither of them stirred, and that was good enough for now.

Catherine kept her hand on her sword as it remained encased in the scabbard at her side. She stepped as softly as her clunky rain boots would allow her and as she moved before her mother, the older woman raised her head. A look of dread and concern covered Sarah's face, and Catherine moved to lower herself to one knee before her, but she did not bring the scabbard against her hip up high enough to compensate her movements, and it thudded against the floor.

Edward made the mistake of briefly looking behind him at the noise Catherine had created, thinking something had happened to her, and when he heard a woman hiss, "Damn it!" behind him, he spun quickly to deflect the blade that suddenly was aimed at his head.

Catherine immediately rose from her mother and turned towards the commotion in back of her, catching only a glimpse of Edward and the green-cloaked Abigail clashing their weapons. Heavy footsteps came from the other direction, and Catherine turned, just in time to see the man that had been addressed earlier as Ezekiel bringing his sword towards her stomach. Moving on the instincts that she had been taught from her sword masters, Catherine had her sword freed from its scabbard and blocked his attack. Then, she was moving in every direction possible to defend herself.

Edward raised his left hand to block a strike and then swung across with the right to initiate an attack, but this Abigail was no mere pickpocket. Her skills nearly matched his own, and as she ducked under his blades, her single blade came forward swiftly with an expertise that Edward found he was admiring.

"You've danced to this song before, haven't you, love?" he asked, hoping to break her concentration.

He decided that if he could pull a musket, he might have an opportunity to end this match sooner. Abigail, however, did not respond in words, but in a flurry of arcs and an aggressive attack that forced Edward to defend himself. Even with his twin cutlasses doing the work, he felt this woman's speed, and she had an agility that he had not experienced in any other opponents before. He silently hoped that Catherine was faring better with her adversary.

Stepping back to give herself more space, Catherine lured Ezekiel into a corner of the room away from her mother in an effort to ensure that Sarah would not be struck accidentally. She caught Ezekiel's sword on her own and ducked to the right to escape his kick. She used his off-balance maneuver to slide out of his immediate reach. He was much more aggressive in his movements than Kenway was earlier this morning, and he lacked any kind of discipline. Ezekiel's style was more brutish and overbearing than anything strategic, but Catherine knew better than to let her guard down with him. One well-placed strike on his part, and she could be decapitated or severed from shoulder to hip.

Still, the only way she could save her mother now was to fight with him until he either gave up, which she knew was not likely, or incapacitate him in some way so that he would no longer be a threat – even if that included ending his life, which was something she had never done before and was hoping to avoid.

"Come on, boy," Ezekiel goaded, "Give up, and I might only take your hand. Keep going, and I'll take your head."

In that span of a heartbeat, Catherine brought her eyes to this mercenary and saw that there was a long scar that ran from his right temple to where his lips were separated. It left the impression that the split of his lips were further along his cheek on his right side than his left, and it gave him an unbalanced and asymmetrical appearance.

Catherine knew she had to mentally regroup and ignore his taunting, and she needed to not let herself get distracted by his disfigurements. It was imperative that she keep her strength placed in her fighting and keep her breathing paced. To this Ezekiel, she was nothing more than an intruder on their plans. To her, he was the man who had harmed her mother, and that gave her more determination to ensure he doesn't hurt someone else's loved one.

Bringing her sword back around her, Catherine decided it was time to switch roles with him, and she pushed forward with an aggressive attack. Her movements were carefully laid, her eyes watching his body movements for the slightest hint of where he would strike next, and as she defended those attacks, her sword bit deeply into his forearm. A gash of crimson covered his wrist, and dripped onto the floor before them, but it didn't slow him.

Catherine felt all manner of curses scatter in her head from her days of listening to the sailors near the docks, but in her momentary need to protect herself, she didn't have time to release any of them. Instead, she just kept moving her sword before her and around her. Every technique she had ever been shown and practiced had been utilized as she worked to keep Ezekiel's blade from striking her.

Feeling the weight of her sword arm growing fatigued and heavy, Catherine ducked under a wild slash aimed at her neck. For as fast as her movement had been, Ezekiel's blade was just slightly faster and longer as it nicked along her upper arm near her shoulder.

This time she did curse out-loud in a murmured growl as the pain tore into her skin. It was not a new sensation, as she had plenty of cuts from her days of practicing with her masters, but the sting of this mercenary's blade had a much more wicked intent in it. She could feel how this man wanted to win this battle and take the claim on victory. And, if she allowed that, her mother was as good as dead.

Catherine looked to the wicked glint in his eyes and realized the minute warning she had sought earlier was not in his body, but his face. Every time Ezekiel would bring his sword high, his cheek would twitch where the scar had dug into his lip. She breathed in this new knowledge, and she waited for his face to reveal his strike as he stepped to her side and scrapped his blade across hers.

As predicted, his cheek gave the slightest movement, and as he pulled his sword back, Catherine twisted hers before her and argued against her morals. She felt the resistance of her blade as it pushed into his stomach, but she used the image of her frightened and abused mother to finish the task.

She watched in confusion and guilt as this man sucked in a breath of disbelief, his eyes glinting in a hatred so pure it scared her before his irises faded like a flame blown out. The spark of life that was once in his dark pupils faded into a matte black as he slipped to his knees and fell off her blade.

 **The Aftermath**

Edward spun around his adversary's striking blade, his smaller cutlass catching it and pushing it away from him. He still could not see beneath this Abigail's hat to see what kind of thoughts could possibly be roaming in her eyes as she fought, but she was no mere opponent. She was skilled and well-versed in a style he had only recently experienced, but before he could dwell on that thought, their blades had locked to his left.

In that split-second of a moment, Edward calculated a multitude of options, his instincts already predicting the outcome of each. He had his hidden blades, muskets primed and ready for firing, poisoned darts that would do him no good in their current placement on his back, and his hidden blades that he had not been able to access while his hands held the cutlasses, but none of them could do anything to change the tide in this immediate moment. However, it wasn't a weapon that he would need when he remembered that he had his own body to factor into this confrontation.

He brought his foot forward to wrap around the pickpocket's leg so that he could bring her onto the floor, as he had done earlier on the _Jackdaw_ with Catherine. Unexpectedly, though, Abigail was ready for him, and she pivoted around his leg, her techniques revealing a dance in a class all its own. In that single movement, she had twirled and ducked, her lithe body now staying just inches out of reach of his cutlasses.

"Damn it!" she hissed and then in a blink there was a soft explosion.

Edward found himself choking on a mouthful of dust, the gray cloud around him exactly of the kind he had used on enemies before. Instinctively patting his cutlass-holding hand along his belt, he found the gap where a smoke bomb had once hung, and he heard the lightweight footfalls as Abigail quickly ascended the stairs.

Whoever this Abigail was, he concluded, she was definitely more than a mere pickpocket and an opponent not only worthy of the Assassins, but one that was dangerous to them as well.

Backing out of the small cloud as it dissipated, Edward turned to see Catherine holding her bloodied sword, her hand shaking.

"Oh, no, you don't. Not now, love," he muttered as he sheathed his cutlasses and stepped up behind her.

Edward grasped her shoulder, spinning her to face him. As he expected, he saw the glazed look in her eyes of having done something she regretted but trapped by the knowledge that she could not reverse her actions to undo it.

Catherine blinked without thought, the time passing without any recollection of it shifting. The last thing she remembered was watching Ezekiel's lifeless body fall to the floor. Then, her hands started shaking, and she could only stare helplessly into an oblivion of regret. She didn't want to end it like this, but the techniques she had been taught had taken over, and her instincts had surfaced. She was overcome by a wave of protection so fierce for her mother that she could not stop herself from killing this man. And, as his lifeless body lay on the floor of this abandoned monastery, she could only stare helplessly as his blood poured from his wound, covering the dirt beneath him.

She had not heard Edward and Abigail fighting behind her, nor could she hear her mother's frightened sobs. It was just an empty void that she was being sucked into, a dark place that seduced her to remain there, to find contentment and joy in the life she had taken. And, she wanted nothing more than to get out of that void, but she could find no purchase, no place where she could reach for safety.

 _I'm in death shock_ , she realized, as she was experiencing the numbness she had been warned about when taking her first kill. Death shock was what her first master had called it, and he begged her to only kill when of dire circumstances. She had never believed she would have experienced it, as death was never her intention for an opponent. But, the same need to protect that had awakened in her that night in England had surfaced again tonight. However, this time, the instinct was able to realize its full potential, and she had killed a man…to save her mother.

Then, warmth grasped onto her, and pulled her away from the sight of the dead Ezekiel on the floor. In a rush, her breath returned, and the void fled in the same manner that a cockroach does in the firelight. She swore that the death shock was still there at the edge of her vision, beckoning her to return. However, the gruff accent of the Assassin's voice was much stronger, and his words solidified to put a wall around her that protected her from the seduction.

"The job's not done yet," he told Catherine sternly. Then, dropping his voice he softly offered, "Your mother needs you, lass."

Feeling the white-knuckle grasp on her sword hilt, Catherine shook her head and sheathed the blade.

"She needs you," Edward repeated quietly, watching the kindness in Catherine's brown irises come back. "Aye, go to her."

Stepping carefully, Catherine knelt before Sarah Robinson and swallowed down the lump in her throat that threatened to strangle her. "Mama?"

Sarah shook her head, new tears streaking her cheeks, and she screamed, "I can't take any more of your cruelty! Bastards, you lot!"

Catherine looked up to Edward and saw the smaller cutlass in his hand as he knelt behind the pillar. She understood now why it was so imperative for her to go on this quest with the pirate. There was no way he could keep Sarah from harm once free if she was hysterical, and Edward would have been left to alternative measures to get her out of the ruins.

Catherine's voice grew harder. "Mother, you must listen to me. I'm here to free you."

Sarah looked to the young man before her, and she shook her head. "I was never blessed with a son."

"No, Mama, but you were blessed with a little pirate," Catherine offered softly, giving a smile that she was certain her mother would recognize.

"Dear God…Catherine?" Sarah asked, as recognition finally struck in her irises. "What have you done? They will imprison you for certain."

"You have to trust me, Mama. Don't be alarmed, but I'm working with a man that will take you someplace safe," Catherine explained.

Edward took the signal to cut the ropes around Sarah's arms and then he carefully stepped around the pillar to face the two women.

Bringing her arms from behind her, and wincing at the tenderness of her muscles, her skin showing signs of being worn raw from the ropes, Sarah shook her head at the sight of Edward. "Oh my God, Catherine…pirates? What have you become?"

Without a breath between her words, Sarah then put a gentle hand upon Catherine's arm, her motherly instincts overriding her fears and her pain. "You're bleeding."

"I'll be fine," Catherine insisted. "Please let Captain Kenway here help you."

"Aye, Madam, if I may," Edward offered as he gently took Sarah's arm in his hand. "My crew is awaiting your arrival."

Sarah brought her attention now to the pirate accompanying her daughter, and the look of concern she had a moment ago flared into that of a protective parent. "What horrible favor have you demanded of my daughter in exchange for this?"

"Mother," Catherine pleaded, "He has asked nothing of me but to be here for you. Father refused to get involved, but Captain Kenway has shown me he is an honorable man. He is more than he appears, and I have put my trust in him. I ask you to do the same."

Slowly bringing her feet beneath her, Sarah relented to the pirate's grasp and allowed him to help her stand. Sarah leaned on him for support as Catherine took her hand within hers and began leading her out of the ruins that had been her lonely nightmare for the past day.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

 **An Emotional Send-off**

During the time that the Assassin and the Robinson women walked, Sarah's strength began to return. After about ten minutes, she was able to hold herself upright, utilizing the space between the pirate captain and her daughter for her feet to move forward on her own. Her physique showed a woman of average height and weight, her waist a little more rounded due to her child-bearing and her nearly fifty years of life. The abuse she had undergone in her captivity had been minimal, but there were signs of bruising on her face and arms, done mostly to keep her subdued and quiet.

As the realization that she was not suffering from a dream of rescue began to solidify, Sarah began to accept that she had been granted freedom from her ordeal, and the questions started emerging. However, Sarah held her tongue for the moment, instead just observing her rescuers. She watched how Catherine walked wearily in the darkness of night, her eyes checking on the cut near her shoulder occasionally, and how Captain Kenway would glance his eyes over to her every so often, as though checking on her with a concern that should not be existent in a pirate. The group maintained near-silence as they moved about, with Kenway relaying the occasional word of encouragement or directive, depending on whether they were slowing or if they needed to duck down into the shadows of the island shrubbery as the pirate captain insisted they keep out of sight.

They had come across no danger, most likely due to Captain Kenway's observances, as the moon and stars above were the only light that they used on their journey. Ahead, voices were heard, and torch lights broke the darkness. Sarah had expected that Kenway would have stopped them once again, but instead he made no motion for them to slow.

Edward had kept his awareness open as they exited the monastery, listening and looking for any signs of a renewed attack. He was prepared for Abigail to return with a small army and slaughter them, as the Templar's rouse of using Sarah to convince Alexander to hand over the Ribbon of Samson had failed. They were an expendable group now, as there was no bargaining chip to be had, except for Catherine. For reasons Edward still could not piece together, the Templars – Abigail in particular – had wanted the Robinson daughter.

Taking occasional glances at the two women he was escorting, Edward saw a strength in each of them that was as different as the women themselves. Sarah could not be faulted for having a moment of hysteria during her rescue, but once she realized that her daughter had disregarded the restrictions the Templars' had placed on her life, the older woman's eyes had glazed over with a mother bear's protective instincts.

Catherine, on the other hand, was still fighting the morality battle within herself, and it would give itself away whenever she allowed herself to stare too long into nothingness. Every time she looked to her mother, her eyes would harden with a determination that she was not going to lose Sarah again. She had damned the Templars to a hell only she could devise for having made the attempt to harm her mother. However, it was those moments of weariness that hung over the younger Robinson where Edward could not help but fear that he had inadvertently unleashed something that never should have been released.

"Captain!" called a voice in a hushed tone, and Edward recognized the dark-haired young man that was a part of his crew.

Caleb Marley had come to the _Jackdaw_ after being liberated from a Spanish prisoner ship months ago, and the young man had indebted himself to Edward in a way that no other crewman had. He was genuinely relieved for his rescue and had proven himself a worthy seaman and a loyal shipmate and was rewarded with command of the schooner, _Steadfast_. Caleb was one of the very few people that Edward trusted with the mission of taking Sarah Robinson to Great Inagua, where the young man would look after her at the manor that was part of his hideout. And, he had allowed Caleb's judgment in choosing a small crew that would be delegated for this mission.

"Aye, mate, has there been any trouble for you?" Edward asked.

"Nothing beyond a couple drunks passing through and a lonely sailor mistaking our campfire for a romantic getaway with his courtesan," Caleb offered as his blue eyes glinted in the firelight and his smile accentuated the small scar over his cheek.

Sarah gave the impression that she had disregarded the pirates and their conversation, but she had been listening carefully to every word as she glanced at the rowboat that was settled along in the beach and awaiting passengers. Her eyes then shifted to the candle-lit lanterns that hung off the back of the distant schooner bobbing in the darkness as the moonlight sparkled off the gentle waves that rolled onto the shore. A moment later, she brought her attention to the dark-haired young man who could not have been much older than Catherine, his confidence its own beacon around him.

Catherine had said earlier that Captain Kenway would get her somewhere safe, but she had been too emotionally wrought to understand just what he meant by that. Now, the plan that he and her daughter had devised was starting to make sense.

"Where am I going?" Sarah asked as her eyes moved amongst the young Caleb, Captain Kenway, and Catherine.

"An undisclosed location, Madam," Edward answered. "Aye, but someplace where you'll be free from the troubles that surround your husband and your daughter."

"And, should this not be of my wishes?" Sarah asked, a strength glittering in her eyes now, despite the confusion she had displayed earlier during her rescue.

Catherine stepped towards her mother, and took her hands in hers. "How much do you really know about everything involving me?"

Sarah pulled a hand free and used it to brush a few stray strands of Catherine's blonde locks back under the material wrapped around her head. "That you were never one to sit by idly while others were being harmed. I don't know why those men in England branded you as a criminal, but I always suspected there was something dishonest about the magistrate. Your father no longer trusted the authorities, and I agreed, so he brought us here, where he could conduct his business more directly. Whatever trouble you had stumbled upon had followed us, and your father only told me that you were a heartbeat away from imprisonment because of a fight you were involved with. I also know that since your trial you are to never raise a weapon to another, and both Martha and I have done our best to ensure you do not. Other than that, your father believes I would be safer if I could deny any knowledge of our troubles."

Smiling now with a sad sparkle in her eyes, Sarah put a hand upon Catherine's cheek. "I see something deep in your eyes now, a pain and a regret that you are fighting at this very moment to understand and control. You can't hide that from me, Catherine."

Lowering her eyes, Catherine took a breath. "I killed that man, Mama, the one in the ruins with you."

"I know you did," Sarah answered softly, grasping her daughter's hand more firmly. "Feel no guilt, for he had lost his way and his humanity. He had been cruel for so long that he had forgotten kindness. I beg of you to not lose your kindness, Catherine. When you feel it from others, you must embrace it and share it. Don't let anyone dissuade you otherwise."

Catherine brought her eyes to her mother and saw a sparkle in them. Sarah's voice then lowered into that of a conspiratorial whisper, as a warm and compassionate smile graced her lips. "Don't think I haven't noticed the long stares and the fidgeting between that Nathaniel Coles and you. Your father's courier has the kindest heart I have ever seen, and you have my blessing."

Catherine was caught in a rush of embarrassed warmth on her cheeks for what Sarah had observed between Nathaniel and herself. However, the feeling of playful shame didn't last long as an overwhelming sadness filled Catherine because the woman who was her friend in so many ways was about to embark on a journey where she would be lonely, and her time spent with strangers.

"I'm sorry for sending you away, Mama," Catherine breathed. "I'll be lost without you, but…"

"Your path is one where I don't belong right now," Sarah interrupted, bringing Catherine into a tight hug. "I pray our separation is only for a short time. While I am away, be the champion that burns within you, my little pirate."

Edward stepped towards the two women, "Aye, ladies, the moon shifts in the sky, and the cover of night is still our best guard."

Sarah loosened her grasp on her daughter, stepping back and nodding to the dark-haired young man who was approaching them.

"Madam, my name is Caleb, and I will be in charge of your safety…"

Catherine lost whatever else was being spoken between Captain Kenway's man and her mother as the two of them boarded the row boat and faded into the darkness out on the bay towards the awaiting schooner.

"Aye, love, let's get you cleaned up and presentable again," Edward said with a smile, realizing that Sarah Robinson had healed the regret that Catherine had harbored, and he felt a wave of relief come over him.

"Thank you, Captain," Catherine breathed as she turned from the small boat in the bay and followed Kenway into the darkness of Nassau.

 **A Promise for More**

Morning had risen, and with it another wave of humidity. Nathaniel was grateful this wave wasn't nearly as thick as the one a few days ago, but he missed that lighter breath of air when he inhaled. Last night when he had brought the correspondence of the requested replies back to the Robinson home, he had hoped that Catherine would have returned. When Martha informed him that Master Robinson was still undisposed and that Catherine was unavailable while she handled her own errands, Nathaniel prayed she was safe. Edward Kenway was still a pirate beneath the noble words he spouted, and if anything happened to Catherine, Nathaniel would find some way to make the pirate regret it.

Moving under the garden arch that led to the front steps of the Robinson home, Nathaniel caught sight of Catherine moving from the bench towards the step where he was standing. She moved silently in the waking morning, the long skirts of her light green dress barely brushing the ground as she walked. Her hair was in its usual loose bun, but for some reason it looked hurried and rushed as the fallen strands were thicker than they usually were.

"Miss Catherine," he said quickly in acknowledgment, his hands instantly grasping his tricorne from his head and bowing his head formally.

Catherine had waited outside her home in the slowly rising humidity while she had kept watch for Nathaniel's arrival. Alexander was back to handling the business correspondence and was in his office. Catherine took her father's distractions to venture out of the house early, as she needed the opportunity to talk with Nathaniel privately before he began on her father's errands. She started to suspect that Nathaniel was unaware of the danger he was involved with, especially if any of his errands crossed paths with the Templars and their agents.

Rising to meet Nathaniel as she recognized his brown uniform, Catherine had no idea exactly what she would tell him, yet he deserved to know something. He acknowledged her with his usual greeting, but Catherine could no longer talk to him with the same formalities she had always used. Catherine had her mother's blessing now, and that was enough.

"Nathaniel," she breathed in reply to his greeting, keeping her voice soft. "My mother is safe."

Squeezing his tricorne in his fingers, Nathaniel glanced his eyes over Catherine, feeling himself in a strange kind of confusion, aware that she was speaking to him both casually and secretively. He didn't know why, but it took him a moment before he fully understood that she was confiding in him regarding the events of the day before. He followed her lead and kept his voice low, allowing their conversation to remain private to only them and not arouse anyone from inside the house.

"I was concerned by your absence last evening when I returned," he admitted. "When Martha took the letters from me, she said you were on an errand and that you would not be available until the morning. What happened with Captain Kenway? Did he not help as you thought he might?"

Catherine felt her eyes drop momentarily, the rush of the memories of her sparring match with the pirate and then her battle with the mercenary filling her thoughts. She forced the mild throbbing out of her mind of the stitch work that Kenway had done on her upper arm. Although it was not a life-threatening injury, it did require a needle and some thread to close it properly. Even this morning, her jaw and teeth still felt a little sore from biting down on the thick rag to stifle her screams while Kenway closed the wound.

"Captain Kenway had been more than helpful, and I am grateful for his assistance," Catherine told him. She brought her eyes up, hoping that Nathaniel would one day be accepting of her skills and the scars on her skin that she worked hard to keep hidden from the rest of the world. "Getting my mother to safety had taken longer than was anticipated."

Nathaniel nodded and then grew silent for a long moment. His eyes caught Catherine's in the early light, and it was the first time he saw the tan specks nestled amongst the brown of her irises. He sensed there was something else she wished to tell him, but whatever words she had, she kept them to herself.

"Captain Kenway and I had tangled briefly on the day your purse was stolen," Nathaniel offered, giving his own confession. He remembered that he had promised her he would tell her at a later time how he knew Captain Kenway, and this was the best opportunity he had. "Kenway asked me to provide him with specific information I might hear in my travels related to particular topics of his interest. Yesterday, I came across the pickpocket who had stolen your purse talking to a man. They distinctively mentioned you, an artifact called a Ribbon, and that your mother was being used in their plot to get your father to turn the Ribbon over."

Nathaniel paused, and all those nervous flirtations he ever had with Catherine melted. That defensive nerve Kenway had told him he had for this woman emerged, and it overrode any sense of the boyhood infatuations he had ever felt for her.

Nathaniel felt his voice drop even more, and he did not try to hide the concern in his words. He knew he was about to entirely disregard the formalities he always shared in her presence, and just the thought of saying her name without a formal title for once warmed his chest. "Catherine, Captain Kenway told me that there were dangers around you, but he did not say what they were…"

The sound of the door opening behind him broke whatever else he wanted to say, and he quickly turned around hoping that whoever it was would grant them just a few more moments.

"Ah, Mister Coles, I wondered what had caused your delay," Alexander said with a hint of sarcasm. "It is not like you to be late."

"Father, Mister Coles' tardy arrival is my fault," Catherine quickly defended as she came to stand between Nathaniel and Alexander. Her father's bruise on his face was still very evident, but as far as anyone was to know, he had a horrible stomach illness the last two days, and during one of his episodes, he had banged his face on his desk as he passed out. "I had an unfinished discussion from yesterday that I wanted to handle first thing."

Alexander shifted his eyes between his daughter and his courier for a long moment before settling back on Catherine.

"I have time-sensitive documents that must be delivered," Alexander explained calmly. "Be swift with your discussion and let my employee attend to the duties I have assigned to him today."

Catherine nodded her understanding and watched as her father returned back inside their home. She spoke softly and with an urgency that Nathaniel recognized was to prevent him from getting into further disciplinary issues with Alexander. "I'm sorry we can't talk more now. I will await you in the garden tonight when you return, and I will answer your questions then."

Nathaniel hated that fate constantly found ways to interfere, and he wondered if there would ever be a time that they could talk without an interruption. He watched Catherine turn away from him, but something inside him had grown bold and defiant. His right hand fell from the tricorne to grasp her hand within his, and she turned to him with a startled expression on her face.

He had not expected Catherine's hand to be so rough with calluses along her palm and fingers, and suddenly nothing about her made any sense to him. Yet, in some strange way, everything about her had developed clarity, and the mysteries that comprised of this merchant's daughter began to unravel. He realized she was far more than the timid young woman who spoke only polite greetings and was boxed into her guardians' wishes. While he felt the questions in his eyes waiting to be asked, her troubled irises caught his, and Nathaniel knew there was only one thing he could do in this moment.

Breaking his hand from hers, Nathaniel mentally kicked himself and grasped his tricorne tightly in both hands. He needed to amend the sudden distress that he had caused in her, and he humbly murmured, "I am sorry, Miss Catherine. I meant no…"

"Nathaniel," Catherine interrupted softly, fearful that he would reject her now that she was not the perfectly defined woman that she often imagined he thought of her. "I will answer all your questions tonight. You should not keep my father waiting."

Not entirely understanding what had happened between them in that moment, Nathaniel's heart felt heavy that he had violated Catherine in some way he never intended. Regretfully, he took his leave and entered the house to find Master Robinson, hoping that there would be some way to repair whatever damage he had just incurred.

Confused and feeling more vulnerable than she ever had – even in her fight against Ezekiel last night – Catherine moved towards the empty porch and leaned her forehead against one of the pillars, closing her eyes. The throbbing in her injured arm had increased with the rushing of her heart, and the excitement swirled in her stomach at the thought of seeing Nathaniel again, especially at her wishes.

However, doubt painfully bit at her that he would simply dismiss her when she told him everything about her sword skills, her hidden scars, her entanglement with the Templars, and that she had killed a man to save her mother.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

 **The Impending Alliance**

Edward decided to get an early start on the day, and he had ventured off the _Jackdaw_ about an hour after sunrise. He needed to understand just what had happened to Captain Jordan of _Mother's Pearl_ , and if not for having his help enlisted by Catherine Robinson to save her mother yesterday, he would have begun that search a day sooner.

Still, the excursion gave him a more defined sense of Catherine and her entanglements with the Templars. Edward's interest might have been solely in the Ribbon of Samson, if for no other reason than to keep it out of Templar hands, but he dared say that Catherine had managed to give him a renewed sense of purpose and pride. Edward had been honored to have her by his side, despite her inexperience with actually killing anyone. Her years of training and her skills with a blade were better than most, and her desire to do right had bled into him, urging him to be noble in ways he normally would have avoided.

Continuing on his journey through Nassau, Edward's thoughts returned to the _Jackdaw_ last night, and a warmth for Catherine emerged in him that he could only describe as fatherly pride. When Catherine had removed her shirt so they could examine the wound on her arm, she had wrapped herself in the clothing in order to maintain her dignity in front of him, rather than bare herself entirely, and Edward felt genuine shame every time his eyes roamed disobediently against his wishes. She had trusted him with her wound, as she had her previous mentors, and from what Edward could see of the skin she did expose, she had far less scars than he had expected she would. Other than the deep line along her left forearm that she had showed him the day in her office, she had a number of smaller, defensive scars scattered over both her arms and a few thin ones across her back, near her shoulder blades.

The gash in her upper arm from her fight with Ezekiel was not deep, but it was split enough that it was not closing on its own. Catherine knew what had to be done, and without complaint, she twisted the cloth that had been used to hide her hair earlier in the night into a thick band. Then, she bit down on it and set her arm on the table as she closed her eyes.

After he was done stitching her skin, Edward bandaged her arm and helped her get dressed into her feminine attire as much as he could without accidentally viewing her curves. Although Catherine seemed physically and emotionally weakened from the entire ordeal, she insisted that she return to her home. Edward had escorted her, keeping her concealed to the darkness and the shadows of the night, and when she slipped quietly into her house, he had released a sense of concern he didn't realize he was holding for her. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Catherine was a premonition of what it was like for an Assassin to have a daughter.

Pushing the thought aside before it fully materialized, Edward did not want to stir up the loneliness he felt without Caroline by his side. Instead, he distracted his thoughts as he moved through the morning traffic on the streets of Nassau and passed by a fruit stand, smiling under his hood as the helpless little sapodilla on the counter fell into his fingers. He knew he had enough Reales to easily pay the vendor, but there was something satisfying about knowing his sleight-of-hand skills were still at their peak. The vendor was none the wiser, and Edward slipped seamlessly into a small group of people walking past. He brought the sapodilla to his lips and bit into the sugary fruit, savoring the sweetness for the purity it was.

While he enjoyed the morning's treat, Edward kept his ears attuned to the crowds around his little group. He ignored the confused stare of the short man who wondered just why a hooded man had joined his crewmen on their trip to the market. Smirking to himself as he chewed on the sapodilla, Edward broke from the group and continued on his way towards the docks on the west shore.

A figure rushing through the streets in a brown uniform that Edward recognized caught his eye, and the pirate decided it was time to check in again on the courier that had introduced him to the Robinsons and his quest for the Ribbon of Samson.

Taking another bite of the sapodilla, Edward tossed the remains towards a black-furred dog begging for scraps and then he took off after Nathaniel Coles.

After a few moments, the Assassin closed the distance and ducked behind the corner of a tavern as Nathaniel brought forth a sealed envelope. The courier knocked on the door to a building belonging to John Pickens, the merchant who was renowned for bringing his own supplies to the Caribbean so he could replicate the process of making English ale.

Waiting patiently, Edward wished now that he hadn't tossed the sapodilla so hastily. The humidity had crept back in overnight, and if he had the fruit, it would be better to chew on it than to have no way to quench his thirst in the heavy air of the island.

To distract him from the humidity, Edward opened his awareness and focused his eyes on the crowds moving about the street. He heard snippets of conversations that floated by, each piece its own mystery to a larger discussion that the people thought was being kept within their private circles. His eyes scanned the inhabitants and visitors that passed by, noting that there was nothing threatening about any of them. Then, his awareness caught the sight of a unique figure exiting Pickens' office, and Edward relaxed back to normal observations. He blinked twice, to be sure that what he saw was no trick of his eyes, and as he studied Nathaniel Coles moving onto his next delivery, Edward considered exactly what to do with the information he discovered about the courier.

Following Nathaniel, Edward kept his distance and simply observed the man, watching as he moved from one merchant's office to the next, delivering and retrieving correspondence. There was nothing remarkable about him at all. He was a simple young man who did not look for trouble and went about his work, avoiding the drunks, the courtesans, and the temptations that the island of Nassau offered. He had his objectives to accomplish, and there was something determined in his steps, as though he was pushing himself to get through the day without interruption.

Sliding quickly into a large group of people, Edward saw Nathaniel turn around as though he sensed there was someone watching him. The young man's eyes scouted the crowds around him, but after a few moments, he was on the move. This time, though, the courier took off at a fast pace and instead of casually walking the streets, he ran through them.

Edward suddenly wished that Mary was still alive because he would have been more than relieved to have her guidance right now. Nathaniel Coles was much more than a simple courier, and the young man had absolutely no idea of the potential that flowed in his veins.

 **The Revelation**

Deciding whether he should pursue his hunt for _Mother's Pearl_ and the missing Captain Jordan or follow Nathaniel Coles for a longer time, Edward could not ignore the moral pull he had towards finding the courier. The lad needed to know just what he was and what he was up against in his pursuit of Catherine.

Moving amongst the crowds, Edward sped up his momentum and then used it to grasp a ledge along the building he was passing. He pulled himself up the maze of stones, his fingers and boots finding minute ledges that he quickly grabbed with ease. He ignored the comments of the people below him as some of them gasped in astonishment while others could not contain their comments of him being an insane drunk. _No_ , he thought, _a drunk would never be this agile, you oafish moron_.

As he pulled himself over the top of the roof, Edward found a steeple on a nearby church that would give him a better vantage point. He ran across the rooftops, playing the tiles on his feet as a musician would an instrument, and as he reached the church, he flew across the roof, landing on the tiled shingles. Continuing to grasp the nearly invisible hand- and foot-holds, he shimmied up the steeple, finding the ledge where a large hawk had made its home.

The bird of prey yelled in its high-pitched squawk as Edward disturbed it from its nest, but it took off into the morning skies of Nassau to give him full access of the ledge he needed. Carefully stepping around the hawk's nest so as not to disturb its home, Edward stood on the small overhang and opened his senses, seeking the unique splotch of life that was Nathaniel Coles.

After a few moments, he spotted the young courier moving along the streets to the west. Edward mentally mapped out a route that would take him the quickest way possible, and with a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Stepping off the ledge, Edward free-fell to the earth below. The invisible, but familiar, ocean wave caught him and rolled him gently into a cart thick with palm tree fronds and leaves that were removed from the grounds of the church cemetery.

He hauled out of the cart and started down the street that would eventually intersect with the courier's path. Running the mental map in his mind again, Edward neared the cross-street where Nathaniel was destined. Edward hoped that his calculations were correct and that the courier did not stop for another delivery because if he had, it would force him to anticipate his next destination. And, right now, Edward liked the idea that this section of Nassau was away from the main traffic and crowds, and he could haul Nathaniel into the alley that was directly ahead of him.

Coming to the cross-section, Edward caught the familiar brown blur out of the corner of his eye, and he had calculated correctly. Keeping his momentum going, the Assassin crashed into the courier, and slammed him onto the ground, skidding into the alleyway before him.

"Have you no other way to greet a man?" Nathaniel shouted angrily as he struggled to push the pirate off him and get his feet beneath him.

Standing up, Edward grabbed Nathaniel's collar and hauled him with him, flashing a smile of pride and sarcasm. "Sorry, lad, I guess I can't help myself."

Picking his tricorne up from the ground and setting it upon his head, Nathaniel blew out a tired breath. For as much as he wanted to be angry at this pirate for knocking him off his feet while he was in the midst of a delivery, he decided to let it go and offer his gratitude instead.

"Catherine told me you helped her with her mother," Nathaniel explained quietly. "Thank you."

Edward took a step back and brushed sand off his elaborate leather armor. "Aye, that lass has a way about her. I can see how she enchanted you." Holding his hands up in mock surrender with a toothy grin, he then quickly added, "Relax, lad. I told you I've been enchanted by another woman, and I intend to return to her."

Settling the messenger bag along his shoulder again, Nathaniel said, "I managed to gather some information when I was doing deliveries yesterday. I happened upon that pickpocket talking to some man in an alley on the north side. They admitted to taking Catherine's mother, and they said something about a ribbon they wanted. They discussed someone named Captain Jordan who disappeared despite his ship remaining in dock. They accused Master Robinson of hiding Jordan and this ribbon. The pickpocket wanted to put together a party to hunt for Jordan, but the man told her to hold off so that their resources don't grow too thin."

"Aye, that's not much different than what I already learned myself," Edward confirmed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You did well, lad."

"This ribbon is somehow bringing danger to Catherine's family. What is this ribbon?" Nathaniel asked.

"That's the trouble I warned you about, mate," Edward offered cryptically. "But, I have something else I need to discuss with you."

The courier grew tense. "Does it involve Catherine?"

Edward took a breath, wishing once again that Mary was here to have this discussion instead of him. "Indirectly."

"I don't have time for cryptic puzzles today, Captain," Nathaniel bit out as his patience was wearing thin. "I have to get my deliveries finished. Catherine and I are meeting tonight after my work is done, and I fear it will not go well. It would be best that I avoid trouble with her father so that she and I can have that discussion."

Edward hesitated again, the words stuck on his tongue, but that moral nag at the back of his head started screaming at him. Nathaniel started to walk by, showing that he was serious about not wasting anymore time, but Edward was faster as he set a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

Edward's voice was serious, his eyes piercing into the courier's. "There's something about you, lad, something special."

"I'll be something, but it won't be special, if I don't get these deliveries done," Nathaniel replied and pulled his arm free.

"Will you just…" Edward faltered and looked up in exasperation. "Bloody hell, mate! Stop for one moment. Just…stop."

Nathaniel paused and looked back to the pirate, noting that the captain was genuinely confused and flustered. Taking a breath of his own, Nathaniel calmly said, "Speak your peace, Captain."

"I just don't know why I didn't notice it sooner," Edward admitted as he brought his attention back to the courier.

Then, he took a heavy breath and pulled a cloth from his pocket that he had acquired on one of his many excursions a long time ago. He had a passing memory of showing Mary the cloth, and she told him to hold onto it, as it was a way for him to test those he came across that he suspected might have the abilities he shares. Unraveling the material that was no larger than a handkerchief, he noted the symbols and writings that looked like nothing of anything coherent to an average person. But, as he looked at the cloth, parts of the symbols glowed in his eyes creating an entirely different set of glyphs.

Draping the material over his hands before him, Edward brought his eyes again to the courier. "Relax your thoughts for a moment, lad, and then look at the symbols."

Nathaniel still didn't understand what this pirate was doing with him, and he was beginning to suspect the captain was drunk. However, as he brought his eyes to the cloth and looked at it, taking a calming breath as the pirate had suggested, Nathaniel noticed something shift before his eyes. The unfamiliar symbols faded and a series of shapes emerged.

Edward watched Nathaniel's expression grow from annoyed to curious to confused, and the Assassin knew that the courier had seen the shift. "Now look at me."

Nathaniel brought his eyes from the cloth to the pirate before him and saw a glow around Kenway that he had not noticed before.

An angry rumble started in his words. "What kind of witchery..."

"You've got the blood, mate," Edward interrupted calmly. "Aye, you're an Assassin."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

 **Imagined Discord**

Nathaniel had finished his deliveries, but his mind was not entirely on his tasks. He nearly delivered the wrong correspondence at least twice, and he had walked himself in the wrong direction at least three times. It was bad enough that he feared Catherine was going to ask her father to end his employment with them, but now that he had been told about a lineage that he had no inkling even flowed in his veins, he was left feeling lost and alone.

While he had tried to deny any of Captain Kenway's words, something inside him had been entirely comfortable and relived to know that he carried Assassin blood. He remembered as a very young child that his grandmother would occasionally arrive unannounced on his family's farm and tell him tales of bold warriors and daring champions. He thought she was just a wonderful story-teller, and unlike his brothers and sisters, Nathaniel was always entranced by her and her tales. Now, he wondered if those stories were actually accounts of her life, and in a concealed way, his grandmother was showing him that he was destined for something more. And, it now made sense about why she had abruptly disappeared around the time he had turned nine years old. Most likely, she had not survived long enough to keep visiting and telling him of her adventures.

Nathaniel's thoughts about his grandmother faded away as he caught the sun descending on the distant shoreline. He took a deep sigh and walked with heavy steps towards the Robinson home. He thought he heard someone shifting near the porch, but an orange cat suddenly darted out from the bushes and hurried on its way into some brush on the other side of the yard. He swallowed down the disappointment that Catherine was not waiting for him, and he knew when he grabbed her hand this morning that he had broken any chance for her affections. He revealed his intentions too fast, with a boldness that he never should have, and he had taken advantage of the kindness that she had always bestowed upon him.

Knocking on the door, he awaited his usual greeting from Martha and was not disappointed when she arrived a few moments later. He politely removed his tricorne and bowed as he had always done. He was certain that Catherine had already informed her chaperone and her father that he had violated her boundaries, and if Master Robinson demanded that he resign from his employment, then Nathaniel had prepared himself to do just that.

Following Martha into the house, the servant went off in her own direction while Nathaniel continued on his route to Master Robinson's office. He wondered if that was because she didn't want to watch the impending slaughter of his character before he was dismissed for the final time.

Nathaniel stood outside the door, waiting for permission to enter as the older gentleman was seated behind his desk with his head downward. The courier heard the occasional scratch of the quill and the ping of it as it tapped against the ink well on the desk. After a long moment, the older Robinson finished his writing and looked up, waving him into the office.

Nathaniel reached into his bag and brought forth the correspondence that he was required to deliver. Alexander took it and thumbed through it quickly before setting it on his desk.

"Good evening, Mister Coles. I'll expect you promptly at eight o'clock on the morrow," Alexander said before returning to the paper he had been writing upon.

With a sense of relief that he had not been dismissed from his duties, Nathaniel swallowed through his dry throat. "Yes sir. Farewell, and may your evening be favorable."

Finding his way out of the house, Nathaniel closed the door behind him and released a breath he did not realize he was holding. While he was filled with relief for his continued employment, he could not help the heaviness that weighed down his chest. He wondered if he had any hope of amending this morning's lapse of judgment with Catherine.

He took his tricorne off his head for a moment to brush away the trickle of sweat that slid down his temple. There was no sign of Catherine, and he could not linger on the Robinson property without arousing suspicion. He had spent as much time as was respectable at the end of his duties, and if he was caught staying any longer, he truly would risk his employment and his reputation.

Setting the tricorne back on his head, Nathaniel stepped off the porch and made his way towards the garden arch that was at the edge of the Robinson home. As he got near one of the thick trees, he heard footsteps and saw the silhouette of a shadow quickly hide in the thickening dusk. He tried to do that simple trick of breathing calmly and opening his senses that Edward had told him to practice. It didn't amplify the details of the shadow, but he did not sense any hostility coming from it.

"Go through the arch and then follow the line of trees alongside the property to the west," Catherine instructed softly, her breathing rushed. "I will meet you there."

Before Nathaniel could ask why the secrecy, he saw her shadow disappear down the route she had told him to take. Moving along the course she had dictated, he followed a few paces behind but kept his ears attuned to the noises around him to ensure that no one was following them. When he heard no additional footsteps, other than the occasional bird in the tree or a small mammal along the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he hoped that he could find a way to correct his mistakes from earlier this morning.

 **Confessions of the Heart**

Catherine found the downed tree that had often become her sanctuary during her lonely moments. As she sat on it, she was high enough above the shoreline below that she could watch the sun setting without being seen. Currently, the sun was split in half, as the lower end appeared under water, and the upper half had thin strands of clouds caressing the curve at the top. The water rippled, the waves of the ocean muted but calming enough to offer relaxation.

Sitting on the downed tree, Catherine's attention was momentarily distracted by the sparkles of the sunlight on the waves, each peak winking in a soft glow. She heard behind her Nathaniel's footsteps, and she took a quiet breath. For so many months they had been nothing more than long stares and nervous greetings, and now she was going to share with him the secret place she had reserved only for herself. There were many nights when she imagined bringing Nathaniel here to talk, to show him the sunset, or…her thoughts shifted quickly from anything else. There was still the chance that he would dismiss her and be nothing more than her father's employee, and she needed to mentally prepare herself for that rejection.

Nathaniel stepped out of the brush and found Catherine sitting with her back towards him, facing out over the watery sunset. Her spine was straight, the slight breeze from the open area shifting her long, blonde strands near her neck and shoulders. The humidity seemed lessened here, almost as though he could breathe better – which was not entirely true because being with her made it hard for him to breathe.

Catherine shifted her face slightly, her words gently tossed over her shoulder towards him. "Please, Nathaniel, sit."

Instinctively, he took his tricorne from his head before he lifted the messenger bag from over his shoulder and as he sat to her right-side on the fallen tree, he set the empty bag onto the ground with the tricorne atop it.

Catherine swallowed hard, knowing that Nathaniel was just inches away from her now, and other than those maddening moments where their fingers had brushed or when he held her hand this morning, his nearness was exhilarating.

"I've never shared this little sanctuary of mine with anyone, but what I have to tell you I do not want to be overheard by others," she explained softly.

"I understand," he answered in a similar gentleness, waiting patiently for her to begin whatever it was that she felt needed such secrecy.

"Nathaniel, I found ways to learn swordsmanship, despite my father's protests throughout the years," Catherine began cryptically. "Over a year ago, I came upon a mother and her son being abused. I stepped in to defend them, not knowing that the men harming them were part of some organization that had already claimed ownership over the local constables and the magistrate of my township. By the time the constable had come, the woman and her child had fled, and the men turned the story against me, as I had no witness to collaborate my side. The magistrate found me guilty of attacking those men, and my father was forced into an agreement in which we had no choice but to leave England. My father gave up a large portion of his fortune in the guise of fines, but I know they were bribe payments to ensure my sisters in England remained unharmed."

Catherine paused and looked over to the setting sun, noting how the glow was fading as the rounded wedge of light had sunk lower into the ocean. "Captain Kenway explained to me that those men who deceived my good intentions are Templars and because of my mistakes, I had unknowingly forced my family into their servitude. I had no idea at that time just who I stumbled upon when all I wanted was to do something good."

Looking now to Nathaniel, Catherine saw the kind man in his eyes who was listening to her every word and admiring her in some way she did not expect. It was all she needed from him to give her the strength to finish. "The magistrate included in my sentence that I am forbidden to ever raise a weapon in public, no matter in whose defense. If I am caught doing so, I risk imprisonment. However, I defied that restriction to save my mother."

Biting her lip, she forced herself to have the fortitude to tell Nathaniel everything, and with a heavy breath, she looked again at the distant sun, it's light almost extinguished. "I killed a man yesterday, and I had never done that before, but in that moment I knew I had no choice because I needed to save my mother from her abductors. Captain Kenway thought of the idea of disguising me like a man when we rescued my mother, and she is now safely off Nassau. I do not know her whereabouts, and I never asked, hoping that she remains safe from…"

A tremendous shudder suddenly overcame Catherine, and her words fell away. She felt the heat of Nathaniel's hand over hers, the same gentle grasp as he had offered her this morning. There was something comforting in his touch, despite how her heart raced and her breath grew heavier.

Nathaniel could not stop himself from touching her again, despite how hard he had tried. He felt a rush of heated anger wash through him at the thought of someone taking this caring and compassionate woman and imprisoning her for no reason other than her need to protect those who could not defend themselves.

He felt her fingers slip between his, their hands interlocking in a way that only heightened the maddening connection he had to her. He traced one of her calluses beneath his thumb, understanding now that she had earned it from years of practice learning an art that he was barely registering he could study if he took his place within the Assassin Brotherhood.

"These Templars had forced you to be helpless because you stood against them," Nathaniel said, studying her profile as her eyes concentrated on the distant sunset. Just this morning, he had known nothing of Templars or Assassins, but now he would be as thick in it as Catherine was. "And, I want to help you be free of them."

Without hesitation, Catherine shook her head and looked to her father's courier. "No. Nathaniel, I'm not telling you this to involve you. I've told you this so that you will be careful and vigilant. As long as you work for my father, you need to watch for dangers. My father makes deals and plans that he keeps to himself, and you could be caught in something for which you have no knowledge."

Unexpectedly, Catherine felt the heat of his fingers from his free hand push aside the sleeve over her wrist. She felt her breath catch painfully in her chest, wanting to feel his touch in their closeness but overwhelmed by a wave of trembling that was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She watched in fascinated horror as he brushed his fingers along the large scar that she had always tried to keep hidden.

"Did they do this to you?" Nathaniel asked, discovering he had some strange new insight as he understood now why she wore her sleeves just a bit longer than every other woman.

While he was angry that someone had suppressed Catherine's spirit and could see in her brown eyes that her heart had been caged, he wondered if committing to the Assassins would allow him the opportunity to give her the life she once knew as a free woman.

Weakly, Catherine responded, "No. Those marks are from my own clumsiness when I was learning to fight."

She was expecting Nathaniel to suddenly release her and push her aside in disgust for her disfigurements, especially now that they were because of her own mistakes in her training and not from a worthy opponent.

"Are these the only ones?" he asked softly, knowing that if he pursued his place in the Assassin Brotherhood, he would likely develop his own set of marks.

Catherine feared his question, but she feared his reaction to her answer even more, especially since she had acquired a new scar just the night before. "No."

Nathaniel decided not to push for just exactly where the other scars might be upon her, and silently he put her sleeve back over her arm, returning the material to the way she always wore it. She had earned those marks in her training, and he could only silently admire her courage for not simply giving up over injuries when so many others would have.

Feeling a disappointment course through her that her scars had pushed Nathaniel away, Catherine could no longer bring her eyes to him. Instead, her irises traced the ripples of the now-invisible sun on the distant waves, as the pinks and oranges of the sky were all that was left of the light.

Nathaniel breathed in silence for a long moment, aware of her eyes still turned away from him and remaining distant. He hoped he had not pushed her further away by asking about her scars, and while he had not yet been able to break his touch from her, she did not fight against the gentle hold he had on her hand.

Daring himself to not lose this moment, he forced himself to push forward, his voice a bare whisper. "Catherine, please forgive me…but I cannot hold back what I feel any longer."

Aware of her heart pounding in her chest and her body trembling in anticipation, Catherine turned towards Nathaniel and noticed that the distance between them had started shrinking. When he was within a breath of her, she finally understood that he had not pushed her aside in disgust but instead had held onto her.

She closed her eyes as her words escaped her lips in a whisper that matched his. "There is nothing to forgive."

Nathaniel closed his eyes and pressed his lips on Catherine's, softly and carefully. He felt her free hand grasp onto his collar and pull him closer as she leaned into him. A passion neither had ever shared before engulfed them, and they took the moment for all they could, breathing in the salt of the ocean and the coolness of the night air. It was an intoxicating mixture of the heat from their touch and the chill from the darkness around them that fueled what they shared even more. Neither wanted the moment to end, and they held on to it, prolonging the inevitable separation that would come when the need to breathe became too much. They each feared that moving away from the other would never give them another moment that was simply theirs. In this kiss, it was just the two of them – no chaperones, no Templars, and no Assassins – just a young man and a young woman who had spent months longing for the other.

However, logic won over passion, and reluctantly, they eased their lips apart to catch their breath. Nathaniel could not let Catherine go yet, and as he felt her fingers still clutching to his collar, he sensed she was not ready to free him either.

Before Nathaniel could decide whether to move forward again or give her room to breathe, Catherine's breathless and barely audible voice told him, "Don't go."

Feeling his heart rushing in his chest, he softly replied, "I won't."

Catherine took a breath, but whatever influence Nathaniel had over her made her emboldened with a freedom that a girl of her social status was not supposed to know. Feeling the fabric of his shirt still in her fingers, she tilted her head and once again caught his lips on hers.

Nathaniel's free hand reached up to her face, and cupped her cheek as he felt the intensity of this kiss renew the passion between them. His senses became blurred and sharpened simultaneously, and as he touched the warmth of both her hand and her cheek, he could feel the night breeze piercing into his back, warning him that this moment was only temporary, despite how Catherine was the most intoxicating connection he had ever known. He didn't understand the need he had to be close to her, and after so many months of just passing glances and polite greetings, he could never imagine going back to that after this moment. But, he feared that in order to keep them both safe, they would need to hide whatever these shared emotions would entail.

Slowly, they eased into the end of their kiss and breathed in the night air. Their foreheads came together, but this time when Catherine spoke she had her senses about her.

"I beg you to be careful, Nathaniel," she told him firmly, bathing in the warmth of his forehead upon hers and the touch of his hand on her face. The heat of his chest radiated through the material of his shirt, and if not for the cool breeze that came in the night, she was certain that she would have melted under their shared warmth.

For as much as Nathaniel was blissfully lost in her touch and was grateful of her longing for him, he had his own secret that he needed to share with her. Reluctantly, he lifted his forehead from hers and the hand he had on her cheek fell to their entwined fingers. He felt her hand release his shirt, coming to rest instead atop his, and he could not resist entangling their fingers, holding onto both her hands. Looking up, he was entirely consumed by her brown eyes when they caught his.

"Catherine, Captain Kenway and I crossed paths again this morning," he told her quietly, feeling his nerves again at the thought of revealing to her that the same adventurous blood that flowed in his grandmother was also a part of him. "He explained to me the history of the Templars and the Assassins and that…"

"Miss Catherine!" Martha quietly shouted.

Turning towards Martha's voice, they both saw a lantern flashing in the distant darkness of the trees and shrubs.

"I had hoped to have more time," Catherine whispered in regret, not wanting to leave Nathaniel. "I'm sorry, but if I don't return quickly, my father will start to grow suspicious. In my haste to catch you, I did not have a chance to tell him or Martha that I was venturing out of the house."

Nathaniel bordered on just blurting out what he had intended to tell her about his Assassin lineage, but he feared it would require far too much time for her to acknowledge and accept, and he did not want to rush such a revelation.

Unable to immediately release her hands, he softly told her, "You should go then."

Catherine glanced to their fingers, entangled and wrapped in ways she had only dreamed they would share, but she wasn't ready yet to tell her father about her feelings for Nathaniel. Just because her mother approved, it did not mean that he would. Regrettably, she slipped her hands from their entwined fingers and stood.

"Whenever I can, I will wait here for you after you handle my father's business," she told him softly.

Nathaniel remained on the downed tree, watching her shadow disappear into the muted gray and black of the night and took a long breath. He picked up his tricorne and held it in his hands, lost between the joy that he had earned her affections but confused over the lineage that he had recently learned was a part of him. Brushing away invisible fuzz on his tricorne, Nathaniel heard the resonance of hushed voices in the distance, but then his concern grew as the next sound was not the continued distant conversation of Catherine and her chaperone, but of a muted struggle.

With his heart in his throat, he threw his bag over his shoulder and pushed the tricorne on his head as he ran out into the yard of the Robinson home. He found a lone figure lying on the ground with the lantern nearby on its side after having fallen from her hands. As Nathaniel landed on his knees next to the woman, he realized it was not Catherine but Martha.

He saw the shine of blood on the servant's stomach, her once-white apron saturated in a crimson burst that continued expanding. Her hand reached out to Nathaniel.

"Miss Martha…?" he asked.

"They…took her." She struggled to say her words through her final breaths, interrupting him and not giving him a chance to speak until she said all she needed. Her body shook, but she defied death for a few moments longer and found the strength to finish what she needed to say. "Find the…pirate. Find... Find…Kenway… She…trusts him. Save…Cath…rine."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

 **A Knight in a Courier's Uniform**

Nathaniel watched in helpless horror as the servant he had known for months – and was certain Catherine's family had adopted as one of their own over the years – fell lifeless against the sandy grass of the family yard. The lantern nearby had lost its glow as the oil inside burned the last of its supply, and the wick blackened beneath what was left of the flame, casting an eerie shadow over Martha's face.

Nathaniel admitted that he didn't really know the servant other than their greetings and salutations, with the exception of her occasional comments on the weather or her complaints at the overabundance of insects as they flew into the house. But, what he always did see was that Martha cared for Catherine no less than an older sister or a second mother. The servant had taken her role of chaperone seriously where Catherine's interests were concerned, and she had a sixth sense for knowing when to interrupt Catherine's prolonged conversations with him.

Nathaniel pushed aside his memories of the servant, grateful that he had shared in small moments of her life. Instead, he brought his eyes up and scanned them over the nearby ground, hoping to find something – anything – that would give him a clue as to where Catherine might have been taken. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself to allow his concentration to flow. The world around him muted, the night mammals streaking by in a glow he had never seen them do before. It nearly broke his concentration, but Nathaniel forced himself to stay on task and ignore the wildlife.

He stayed in that awareness for a few moments longer, seeking the ground for something that didn't belong. Nathaniel shifted his attention in small blocks around where he knelt, studying each part of the ground carefully. In the hazy and glowing light of his concentration, he saw blood droplets and a large boot print that stood nearly on top of the gore, and it was clear now that the blood was not from Catherine but from the hulk of the man who stood in that place. There were no additional droplets, and any trail Nathaniel hoped to find had turned cold. The ground gave away no other secrets, so he then moved his attention towards the trees and the house, but again the people who had taken Catherine had been discreet, quickly bandaging the injury to prevent further blood loss.

He cursed silently, giving up his hunt as there was nothing of interest. Anger boiled inside him, and his concentration fell apart as the world returned to its dark grays and shades of black that represented the night under this hazy island sky. Even the half-moon was fighting to shine its glow on the earth below and was struggling to give enough light.

Nathaniel looked around him as though lost because he didn't even know what way to start looking for Catherine, and even if he did, he never had any formal training to take the on the people who had abducted her.

Feeling a wave of defeat, Nathaniel's eyes shifted around him to catch the house before him, and he saw the soft glow of candles in the windows.

Standing, Nathaniel walked with a new purpose to the Robinson home and as he came to the front door, he did not bother knocking. Instead, he grasped the door handle and pushed the door open. The hallway was not as bright as he was accustomed to seeing, as he had never been to the house after his working hours. There was no particular candle arrangement in the hallway, and the only light here had spilled from the other rooms, the places he was certain Martha had lit before going on her ill-fated search of Catherine.

Arriving at the business office of Master Robinson, Nathaniel found him still at his chair, reading correspondence and making notes with his quill on a piece of parchment.

"Ah, Catherine, I received the ledger from the _Starlight_ …"

With a frustration that Nathaniel could only describe as his defensive nerve, he stepped into the office and planted his hands firmly on the older Robinson's wooden desk.

Alexander looked up about to amusedly reprimand his daughter, but when he saw his courier standing over him, his expression shifted to one of anger at the young man's impudence. However, before he could state his complaints, Nathaniel's words came faster.

"Catherine has been taken, and they killed Martha in your own yard," Nathaniel growled, not even caring that he had dropped the polite formalities he had used with this family for his entire employment. "Catherine told me that she saved her mother from death, but it appears that those people took retribution and killed her chaperone instead."

The older man shook his head, and a regret filled his eyes as he fell back against the chair. His voice shifted between sadness and anger. "They had agreed to leave Catherine out of this. I did everything – _everything_ – they asked…"

"But Catherine did not," Nathaniel countered. "She knew what she risked and she did so willingly."

Alexander stood, going almost nose-to-nose with his courier. "You know nothing, young man!"

Nathaniel held his ground, allowing whatever flame that had ignited within him to burn, and rather than feel lost because of the conversation that Kenway had with him earlier in the day, he was grateful for all his recent knowledge. His words were even-toned despite the cauldron of anger that stewed within the pit of his stomach.

"I met an Assassin who parades himself as a pirate, and there are ancient objects called Pieces of Eden that the Templars want. One of those artifacts is the Ribbon of Samson that is the cause of your family's recent troubles, and you had been practically imprisoned by these Templars for over a year because Catherine made the mistake of crossing paths with them. Now, she is missing, and your servant paid the price because Catherine saved her mother from them the other night. What do I not understand?"

Alexander's strength suddenly drained out of him, and he fell back onto the chair. His head fell into his hands as he leaned his elbows on the desk.

"Oh my God, Catherine, what have you done?" Alexander asked softly. "She promised me she would never raise a weapon again. She told me that Captain Kenway rescued my wife and is keeping her safe."

Nathaniel eased his shoulders and stopped leaning over the older Robinson, realizing now that Catherine had lied to her own father to protect him from her actions. Feeling his voice grow soft but stern, he understood the extent of trust she had put in him, and what they shared only moments ago in that alcove was deeper than just a mere kiss.

"Kenway disguised Catherine as a man when she saved Mistress Sarah," Nathaniel explained. "She confided in me that she killed a man in the process, and even though she was disguised, I fear that the Templars had figured out what she had done. Catherine does not have it in her to ignore the plight of others – especially those she cares about most, and I intend to find her before they harm her."

Bringing his head from his hands, Alexander looked to the courier with an admiration he had not shown the young man before. Shaking his head, he pleaded, "Dear God, son. I did my best to keep you out of her troubles and distanced from her for your own protection. You would be wise to run while you still can."

"I will not abandon her," Nathaniel assured, squaring his shoulders as he straightened his back.

"You're in love with Catherine, and clearly she is with you," Alexander breathed softly, understanding now why his daughter would entrust such secrets to the courier whose eyes only ever looked upon her with respect and compassion. "I suspected she has cared for you for a long time, Nathaniel, but I can plainly see in your eyes that you would truly die for her, wouldn't you?"

"She would do no less for you or me," Nathaniel quietly responded. "The question is whether I can convince Kenway of the same because I fear he is the only one capable of taking on these Templars."

Then, Nathaniel spun and stepped with determination out of the Robinson home. It was time he paid the Assassin a visit and began whatever training he could take on in whatever amount of time he had. He just prayed that the Templars who had Catherine would take their time in planning whatever they had wanted to do to her.

 **Prisoner of Betrayal**

Catherine felt the dull ache consume her head, and she brought her hand forward to press on the pain that emanated from her temples and wrapped around from her forehead towards the spiking ache at the base of her skull. She felt a soft blanket beneath her, but she didn't remember going to bed yet. However, there was very little light in the room, and she used her waking moments to piece together why she was so confused. A damp breeze trickled over her face, and then the sound of someone in pain – or perhaps in pleasure – echoed softly in the darkness.

An image of Martha being stabbed in the stomach and the look of horror on her motherly face gave Catherine the startling shock she needed to clear her head. She opened her eyes and now the entire ordeal had come back to her in a completely vivid memory.

Sucking in a breath, Catherine refused to complain about the headache, knowing that she would have it for a while longer. With one hand against her temple, she used the other to sit up. She and Nathaniel had shared a moment – a sweet, passionate moment – that they both had hoped would not have ended so abruptly. There was something important that Nathaniel had to tell her, something about Assassins and Templars, and then Martha had come looking for her.

Catherine left Nathaniel in that secret place of hers, promising him that she would be there as often as she could. When she had returned to the yard, she was grabbed from behind and saw that Martha had been grabbed as well. Their attackers told them to remain silent and they would not harm Martha. Catherine had agreed, using the opportunity to work on formulating a plan. Martha, however, had no intention of cooperating, as she played her role of chaperone to her final breath. Unfortunately, the man's knife had been faster than Martha's voice, and just as the servant released a shout for help, the knife had plunged deep into Martha's stomach.

Catherine fought her abductor, but he had wrapped his arm around her neck and was closing her windpipe to keep her quiet and force her into unconsciousness. Remembering her lessons, Catherine waited until the darkness was just on the edge of her vision and then she fell limp, letting him think she had blackened out from his assault. She then used that moment to grab the dagger from the sheath on the man holding her and when he thought she was no threat, she plunged the dagger into his forearm. That was when the other attacker had landed something hard and unmovable against the back of her skull, and then she was on the ground, lost in black oblivion.

Remembering now the events of the attack, Catherine brought her hand to the point where the object struck her, and she felt a large lump but, luckily, she had suffered no laceration.

Once again, the distant sound of someone seeming in pain echoed softly, breaking Catherine from her memories. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the dim torch on the wall, noting that there was an empty place on the opposite side of the room for another torch. She looked to the prison-like door before her that was sturdy in its construction and had a series of bars in the square opening. She staggered off the bed and nearly fell against the door, but she leaned against it as she peered through the bars, pulling and pushing on it with the hope that it had been left unlocked. As she suspected, it was secured, but she had to try just in case her captors were forgetful or mindless.

Bringing her eyes now to the hallway outside the door, she saw that it was very small and dimly lit with torches upon the wall, and only one other room like hers. That room was directly across the hallway before hers, and it was from where she had heard the sounds and noises echoing.

She heard the human sound again, but it had grown rhythmic, rather than just random. Catherine could have sworn it was not the kind of sounds one makes when being tortured, but then there was a second, muted indistinguishable voice. Without warning, the first one shouted as though from feeling pain, and then it grew quiet again on the other side of the hallway.

Catherine turned away from the other place outside her door and looked about her room, trying to determine exactly where she could possibly be. The bed was small, large enough for just one person to fit and furnished with a set of thin blankets, almost as an accommodation rather than a necessity for a prisoner. Her eyes caught the chains on the wall to the left of the bed and a set of them hung from the ceiling. However, there was something odd about this room that gave her the impression it was anything but a dungeon or a jail.

The pain from her headache struck her again, and she stumbled once more from the door and fell onto the bed, catching herself and sitting upright. Her hand came to that shooting ache across her head, and she hoped it would not last much longer. She would need her mind to work on an escape and her strength to ensure she was not caught or killed as she proceeded to get free.

"Miss Catherine Robinson," came a female voice from the hallway outside. "My apologies for these accommodations."

Taking her hand from her head, her fingers now clenched in anticipation of a fight, and Catherine sat herself to her full height, ignoring the ache in her head and willing it to dull.

"And just who is it that has forced me under these accommodations?" Catherine asked coldly. She heard the lock on the door release, and she mentally prepared herself for a confrontation.

When the woman stepped through the door, she had with her a second torch that she set on the empty holder to the right of the door. It brought much-needed light to the small chamber, and Catherine took note of the elusive pickpocket in green.

Catherine could see that she was, perhaps, in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair and mud-colored irises. Her face had a distinctive scar across her cheek that broke into the beauty of her high cheekbones and rounded features, and Catherine could not hold in the gasp of recognition when she saw her old sword master. Whatever thoughts she had for escape fell apart at the sight of the woman who had taught her everything about how to use her size and her agility and all the tricks that a woman would need in a fight.

"Madame Talbot?" Catherine asked, confused and scared. She knew that if her former sword master was the pickpocket no one could catch, then she had no hope of escape herself.

"This was the safest place I could find for us to talk," the older woman explained. "We're beneath the brothel in the chambers used for special requests by those willing to pay extra for it and remain anonymous."

As if on cue, the moaning in the room across the hall from Catherine's had begun anew.

"I don't understand any of this," Catherine breathed, ignoring the renewed rhythmic noises. "I've heard others refer to you as Abigail, but you told me your name was Elizabeth."

The older woman leaned against the closed door and gave a small smile that contained wistful sadness. "I took my murdered sister's first name and became an outcast pickpocket in need of a purpose. It was the perfect guise, as I could grace myself within the Templars and rise once again within their ranks. I could never let them know that I had been responsible for training the eager student who had humiliated two Templar enforcers over a year ago."

Catherine still could not read her former master's intentions, but she sensed there was something deeper to Abigail than simply wanting to be a Templar. "What does that have to do with me now? My father paid the Templars and all those who held out their hand for payment in order to start anew here in Nassau."

Abigail laughed in a way that was nearly condescending. "My dear, sweet Catherine. Have you remained entirely naïve all this time? Do you think that I would not recognize the very techniques I once taught you? Ezekiel Brown was no friend and the world is better without him in it, but not even a clever sailor disguise could hide that it was you who had killed him."

A wave of fear washed over Catherine, and she felt her eyes fall to the floor. What she had done went beyond simply being imprisoned by the Templars. She now would be taken to the gallows and executed for her crime. For all Captain Kenway's cleverness, neither of them could have possibly known that Catherine's former sword master had witnessed that she had killed a man. Her mother would remain hidden away with strangers, learning of her death from those for who she had no connection, and she would have no one to console her in her grief. Catherine's heart then raced in an ache that was new for her at the thought of Nathaniel being witness to her public hanging for the crimes she had confessed to him just hours ago.

Abigail now snickered and shook her head in a combination of admiration and scolding. "You would have made for a convincing boy if you weren't using feminine maneuvers. But, I will say that I am grateful that your skills have not waned in the year that you were exiled here."

Catherine had no interest in praise from the woman she once respected and mentored under, especially when it would be this woman who would see to her death for breaking the Templar's restrictions on her.

"How long before I am executed?" Catherine asked coldly.

"Oh, Catherine," Abigail sighed. "I worked so hard to convince the Templars that I had my own agenda for you, and they had agreed to leave you for me, despite what they wanted to do to your father for his insolence. That day I stole your purse, it was supposed to have been you who pursued me – not that courier and certainly not the Assassin who discovered our plans. I wanted to reveal myself to you to in secret to show you that I was still on your side –despite what those bastards had done to you in England."

Shaking her head, Abigail then brought her eyes to Catherine's. "When I was training you, I saw potential in your skills, and I wanted to groom you into a Templar like me. In truth, I never intended to give the Ribbon of Samson to those short-sighted Templars, and my purpose for the Ribbon is not merely world domination as your Assassin friend would have you believe. With the Ribbon in my grasp, I would give you the privilege of being my second-in-command, and you would be free from the restrictions those men had put upon you."

Catherine saw the passion in Abigail's eyes, the fervor that she had truly wanted to do something more than hide in the shadow of the men who governed so much of the world.

"My father nearly sacrificed my mother to keep the Ribbon hidden," Catherine explained, knowing that Alexander Robinson would die keeping the location a secret. "He will not disclose that information to anyone, regardless of what excuse you would give him."

Abigail's fist clenched in frustration. "Clearly, you see for yourself how we women are oppressed. Your father's selfishness for your mother's life is just one example. Imagine if we had one strong champion, one who could not be defeated by the likes of anyone, especially men. I wish to give our voices strength and our gender an equality that the world has never known. If a woman defeats one man, she is considered lucky. She defeats ten, she develops a reputation. She defeats one-hundred, she becomes feared. When she defeats the majority of them, she finally becomes an equal. Just as they control us through their strength, I would do the same with them."

Catherine realized this was not the same woman who had taught her the combat skills she now knew. Something had happened in her life, something that changed her and produced biased views, because Madame Elizabeth Talbot was a kind and forgiving woman when Catherine trained under her.

"What have they done to you?" Catherine dared to ask, her voice soft and keeping the accusation out of it.

Abigail lowered her head, her passion easing. When she brought her eyes back to Catherine, there was a sadness and an honesty in them. "My sister, Abigail, saw a path so different from mine. She wished to be an instrument of God, and there was no amount of Templar evidence I could produce that would convince her otherwise. We stayed close despite our different beliefs, and I saw that she was genuinely happy in the convent, dedicating herself to the church. She had a kind heart and gave willingly to those who needed the aid she could give."

Catherine watched her former mentor's eyes shift from that pure joy of having her sister in her life to a coldness that held no iota of kindness.

"One morning, she was arranging the church for the services later that day. Two prisoners who had been on the run for weeks decided to find sanctuary in my sister's church. They slaughtered the few clergy at that church, but they decided to defile my sister repeatedly. When I came across the aftermath of the scene, I told her she would not suffer in vain for what they had done to her. I asked my Templar masters for assistance on finding the prisoners and bringing them to justice, but I was told that their actions were a minor crime compared to the larger hunt I was tasked with undertaking. Knowing I had no backing from the men I once respected and trusted to help me, I took it upon myself to hunt the prisoners down. When I caught them, I gutted them and gave them more pain than they could endure. I lost track of how many days I held them as my captives but when I was finally done and killed them, I returned to my sister only to find that she had been found dead, hanging from a noose in her dressing chamber. She had committed the egregious sin of suicide, one of the cardinal evils that would damn her to Hell."

Catherine felt Abigail's pain radiate off her in a way that nearly made her skin crawl. "I'm so sorry."

Abigail straightened herself and revived her dignity, lifting her chin. "Eventually I learned that Abigail didn't commit suicide, but my Templar masters in England had arranged it to look as such. She was denied the proper burial of her beliefs because of the way her death presented. When I confronted the Templars about it, they told me it was my punishment for disobedience of their orders. Betrayed over what they had done, I turned my back on that faction of the Order, and it was only shortly afterwards that I heard about the excursion for the Ribbon of Samson in the Caribbean. I made Elizabeth Talbot disappear and instead became humble, pathetic Abigail Smith. With this new guise, I worked the Caribbean Templars from the outside in, and it was only by coincidence that my path crossed once again with yours."

"What the Templars did to you and your sister was unforgivable," Catherine offered carefully, "But, why stay with them?"

"They have the resources to find the artifacts I would need to become powerful. With the Ribbon of Samson, I plan to rise further and enact my revenge after being betrayed by them," Abigail explained. "I hope you take the opportunity to stand beside me, to be the first in the new world I wish to create. It would be an opportunity for you to have your revenge on them as well."

Catherine had her doubts about Abigail's vision, as she could not justify living in a world in which half the population was oppressed. While she would love to live in a world of equality, she knew this was not the way to accomplish that goal.

"What happens if I refuse?" Catherine asked softly.

Sadness flashed across Abigail's brown irises, and quietly she said, "Then, I must submit a declaration as witness that you defied the Templars by murdering Ezekiel Brown and demand that your father turn over the Ribbon of Samson or see his daughter publicly executed."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

 **The Morning Preparations**

Nathaniel awoke to the gentle rocking of the mesh around him, and his stomach was surprisingly not as unsettled as he expected it would have been. While the waves throughout the night were gentle, it was enough to keep the _Jackdaw_ moving back and forth. Nathaniel never had any kind of legs for the sea, and it was part of the reason he refused to admit that he stayed in Nassau. The thought of rocking uncontrollably for at least three months back to England was a trip he did not want to take.

Sitting up and nearly falling out of the hammock, Nathaniel grabbed onto the pillar and steadied himself, feeling the hollowness in his chest as his memories returned to the night before.

He started to feel remorse for having left Alexander Robinson a broken man in his home – alone and abandoned – without anyone to console his grief over Catherine's abduction and Martha's death. When Nathaniel had said his peace, he was surprised more than anything that the man who paid his wages had finally seen him as something beyond a mere courier. Robinson saw the depth of compassion he had for Catherine, and while he did not applaud it, he also did not discourage it.

Arriving at the _Jackdaw_ was another matter entirely. The captain had been following a lead of his own and Nathaniel was forced to wait for his return. The few men who stayed onboard the ship to ensure its security had toyed with him, barraging him with playful insults. They had every intention to cause mischief with him, but Nathaniel refused to fall prey to their antics. He had his share of it during his multitude of deliveries on the docks over the last few months, and rather than be baited into their games, he had silently brooded, wondering at what point he should just forget asking the Assassin for help.

Then, he remembered the unfortunate truth of how he would not be able to take on the Templars alone, and even if he did find mercenaries to help, he did not have the means with which to pay them accordingly. He was stuck with the constant teasing of the _Jackdaw's_ crew or committing suicide under a Templar's blade, and he could, at least, live another day with being insulted as opposed to having a sword in his body.

Kenway finally returned somewhere around ten o'clock at night, and by then Catherine had already been abducted for a couple hours. Nathaniel had no idea what they were doing to her, and every minute without knowing had made him more agitated.

Before Kenway even had a chance to greet him, Nathaniel's face had told the Assassin all he needed.

Kenway simply looked to Nathaniel and asked, "When?"

Giving every detail he could, Nathaniel went into the description of the noises he heard, the blood he saw, Martha's final words, and that he didn't know where to start.

Kenway was abnormally calm during the entire ordeal and he told Nathaniel to get rest or he would be useless when the time came for action. Of course, Nathaniel argued that the time was upon them, but the captain had reminded him that the Templars simply would not execute someone without it being public. He understood that the Templars would use any excuse to show the people that they had to remain obedient to the rules set forth before them and they would find a way to give the governor a valid excuse to kill Catherine. The Templars would not do it themselves, but they would pull the strings from behind the curtain.

Nathaniel had gone to sleep weary but finding Kenway's words reasonable. He apparently still had a lot to learn about the Templars, especially if he had any intention of becoming an Assassin. He only wished he had the chance to tell Catherine about his lineage, as he wanted her to know before he made his choice to join the Brotherhood or not.

"Aye, lad, good. You're up," Edward said as he stepped about the crew's sleeping quarters. He set a small tankard of watered rum and a small plate with a biscuit and a slab of cheese onto the table that was fastened to the floor. "What do you know about weaponry?"

Nathaniel noticed that the captain was already dressed in his full uniform, every bit the Assassin as he was every time they crossed paths in town. He briefly wondered if Assassins developed chills the moment they agreed to join the Brotherhood because he imagined that Kenway could not possibly be comfortable in that set-up in the heat and humidity of Nassau. And, then Nathaniel wondered why he never thought about the Assassin's wardrobe before just now.

Realizing he hadn't answered the captain's question, Nathaniel reached for the plate and grabbed the biscuit, telling him, "I've never used any weapons, not even on my family's farm."

Edward feared as much but he dared not show this courier just how hesitant he was to teach someone without any experience. Catherine was that rare flower one came across while wandering the meadow without care, and there were moments when he hated how she had left her mark upon him. She was the daughter he could only hope to have – a woman who was brave, compassionate, and strong in ways many people would never dare to try.

Realizing he was dwelling on her memory as though she was already dead, Edward forced himself back to the present. As long as there was no announcement about a public execution, there was still time to save her.

"Aye, lad, how fast can you learn?" Edward asked, bringing his attention back to the one man on this entire island who wanted nothing more than to see Catherine safe and out of Templar hands.

"If it will save Catherine, I will learn as fast as I need," Nathaniel replied, forcing himself to not choke on the watered rum. Even months later, he still could not get used to the taste of it.

"Then, finish your business, mate," Edward instructed. He needed to take whatever time he had to get the courier as trained as he possibly could if there was any chance of saving Catherine. He would take novice hands over no hands, as long as the lad's heart stays true and doesn't run in fear.

Turning to head back on deck, Edward called over his shoulder, "Pisspot's in the corner. Dump it overboard when you're done. I'll be on deck waiting for you."

 **Apprentice in Training**

"Again," Edward instructed.

Nathaniel took a breath and wiped his sweat-soaked sleeve across his forehead, which resulted in only pushing more of his sweat across his brow. He had thrown the courier jacket onto a nearby palm tree that had been pushed over from a long-ago storm. His hair had grown loose from the black ribbon that had kept it tied back, and the strands were sticking to his cheeks, only adding to the annoying tickle of his sweat dripping from his head. While it was a selfish thought, he did look forward to a bath at some point, even if it was just a naked swim in the blue waters that rolled onto the shoreline surrounding the island.

Raising the cutlass, Nathaniel felt the ache in his arm from the non-stop training that he and Captain Kenway had spent the least three hours doing. For as much as he desperately needed a break and wanted to rest, he could not simply because every moment that passed was another where he had no idea what Catherine was experiencing. He could only imagine that she was being interrogated over the Ribbon of Samson that both the Templars and the Assassins wanted so desperately. And, Nathaniel was grateful that Kenway had finally told him everything he needed to know about this Piece of Eden that had caused Catherine's family so much trouble.

Bringing the cutlass around, Nathaniel stepped with a forward attack, his movements sloppy but determined. The weight of the weapon dragged his right arm, and he compensated by using his left to help keep his attack steady. However, he realized just how open that caused his left side to be, and before he could reset his strategy, Kenway had kicked him in the thigh and rounded his elbow into the side of his head.

Nathaniel went sprawling onto the sandy ground, grateful that they had chosen a shady alcove some distance from the _Jackdaw_. The last thing he needed was the ship's crewmen roaring with their laughter at the farm boy-turned-courier who had done nothing but land on his back or face every time he attempted to make an attack.

Pushing himself onto his knees, Nathaniel could only admire what Catherine had spent her time learning. Being repeatedly defeated had a humbling affect, and it easily broke whatever self-worth he had. He could not imagine how she endured the gashes that covered her skin and the humiliation of being constantly beaten down. While Nathaniel, not only had his ego wounded, he had acquired at least four lacerations that were, thankfully, not deep enough to require mending. At least the captain had been generous enough to not injure him more than was necessary to make his point during the lessons.

Edward rolled his wrist, making the cutlass twirl artfully, and took a couple steps back from the young man on the ground before him to give him a moment of recovery. He refused to admit it to the courier, but the lad was picking up the techniques quicker than he had expected. The only reason the young man kept landing on the ground was because Edward kept switching up his techniques, stepping with more difficult maneuvers on each attack. He needed to push Nathaniel to get him as useful as he could because they didn't know how soon a chance would arise to free Catherine.

"I told you, lad, I was not going to make this easy for you," Edward said, bringing the cutlass to rest in the sheath on his hip.

"I would lose respect for you if you did," Nathaniel replied quickly, bringing his eyes to the Assassin before him and getting himself to stand again.

Edward couldn't help the smile that spread across his face and laughed for a brief heartbeat. "Aye, now that was the one thing I didn't expect you to have for me."

Now, it was Nathaniel's turn to smile. He took the distraction between them and used it to his advantage. He moved without hesitation and charged the pirate, bringing the cutlass around to bear on his neck. While he wasn't planning to actually decapitate Kenway, he did not expect to hear the clash of metal ring either. However, where Kenway's cutlass should have been to block was merely his arm instead.

Nathaniel realized it was not simply Kenway's arm that had stopped his attack, but a blade – a sturdy piece of sharpened steel that had emerged from his wrist like a claw on a seemingly innocent cat. It was the same blade that he had used against him the day they met in the alley and then again in the tavern. Feeling pressure against his stomach, Nathaniel looked down and saw that there was a second one needing only to be pushed, and he would be gutted right where he stood.

"Aye, you've been formally introduced to the hidden blade," Edward explained. "An Assassin's unique weapon used for defense or offense, or as you can see in our demonstration, both simultaneously."

Nathaniel stood still and when Kenway retracted both blades and stepped back, he finally breathed again. He lowered the cutlass and looked to nothing in the distance.

"I barely know her," Nathaniel sighed. "For months, Catherine and I were secretive stares and polite greetings. I was convinced her father had blocked me from even getting a fraction of an inch closer to her, and he even admitted as much when I confronted him. And, now for reasons I'll never understand, I would die if it kept her captors from harming just one hair on her head."

Edward put a hand on the young man's shoulder and could not hide the heartache he felt for his Caroline who was an ocean's worth and more away from him.

"You love her, mate. You always did, and that's all you need to know," Edward told him quietly. "Aye, it was no different when I met my wife. You're just less brash about how you pursued Catherine than I was with Caroline."

Looking down to the cutlass in his hand, Nathaniel thought about how, at first, it felt foreign and detached, as though he should be rejecting it and forgetting this fool's errand. Then, he considered his grandmother's stories of the "Hidden Champion" she always talked about. She had described him as a man who clung to the shadows to remove the stains of oppression. He kept himself unknown to those around him who would never approve of his methods, but they always praised the freedom they received after the mysterious deaths of those who had reigned tyranny upon them.

Thinking about his grandmother more clearly, Nathaniel remembered the way her hazel eyes shone as she talked with him. They were emblazoned with a fire in them and her skin had cast an aura that he now understood only he could see. It was why he followed her on her visits and sat for hours as she talked about that "Hidden Champion." He saw in her what she could never reveal to anyone else, and he was the only one she entrusted enough to reveal her gifted glow. He just didn't know it at that time, but now as he looked at his hand holding a cutlass, he recognized that aura. He was his grandmother's blood, and he needed her and her knowledge in order to save the woman he loved.

Bringing his eyes back to Captain Kenway and feeling a renewed sense of determination, Nathaniel said only one word. "Again."

 **Anguished Solitude**

Catherine awoke to a silence that she had not expected. The human sounds had continued for a long while after Abigail had departed, and Catherine suspected it was part of her former mentor's plan to force her into making her decision as soon as possible just so she could get away from the noises. Abigail had promised that she would give Catherine at least a full day to think about their conversation the night before and she would return the next evening to answer any questions that may have arisen while Catherine considered her answer.

Catherine had decided that she would never refer to Elizabeth Talbot as such again. That kind and generous woman had died with the death of her sister, and now only the bitter and angry Abigail Smith remained. There was no amount of kindness that could heal Abigail and bring Elizabeth back, and Catherine knew her choices were limited.

Looking up, Catherine noticed that the torches on the wall had been replaced, as they once again gave off enough light to brighten the small room. Shifting her attention, Catherine now saw the two trays on the floor. During the early hours while she was still sleeping off the headache of her injury, someone had sneaked into the room and left her the items. The one tray contained a plate with bread and a cup of tea that had long-ago cooled down. The other tray had a large bowl of water and two rags that Catherine had decided were provided so she could wash up and refresh herself.

Catherine took the plate with the bread and the cup of tea and sat on the bed. She chewed thoughtfully on the sweetened dough, remembering that the brothel above her would ensure its employees were well-cared for so that they would have the strength and energy to serve the patrons each day. She took a sip of the cold tea, grateful that it was not bitter but had been sweetened with sugar cane.

Finishing what constituted for a breakfast, Catherine took one of the rags to soak in the cold water. After she wrung it out, she pushed it along her face and the back of her neck, working towards the exposed skin near her bosom. It did little to help her feel better emotionally, but physically cleaning her skin at least gave her something to do, other than look at the walls and await the sounds of the next patron's special requests.

While Catherine suspected these kindnesses were part of Abigail's plan to win her over in her decision, it was not a choice Catherine wanted to make in haste. Abigail had been deceived and betrayed by those she trusted before, and if Catherine resorted to do the same just to save her life, she would be no different than those who had destroyed that woman's trust. On the other hand, if Catherine did not take Abigail's offer, she would end up on the gallows and hanging from a noose.

While it was deceitful, the obvious choice was to promise Abigail that she would join her in her pursuit of the new world she wanted. Because Abigail didn't have the Ribbon yet, that would give Catherine time to figure out a way to get free from her imprisonment. She knew her father would never give up the Ribbon, no matter what threats the Templars made of him. She could imagine him hurrying through his deals, closing them appropriately in preparation of becoming the Templar's prisoner. Even worse was that she had no idea what had happened to Nathaniel last night. If he happened along the intruders in her family's yard, there was a chance he was long dead – just like Martha – and Catherine felt the overwhelming pull to give into her grief.

Fighting against the agony over losing her chaperone, Catherine took the water-soaked cloth and washed her face again. She needed to think and figure out a way out of her imprisonment. She could not depend on anyone to save her but herself, and as the sound of the door down the hallway opened, Catherine dared to wonder if she could convince the courtesan that she was not part of some pleasure fantasy. She thought about what she could say to persuade the courtesan to free her; however, the thought passed as quickly as she had it. If Abigail or the Templars she worked with discovered which courtesan had released her from their custody, they would do unimaginable things to him or her to as punishment for getting involved in their affairs.

As the muffled noises from the room across the hall began again, Catherine could no longer hold back the dam of her grief for Martha. Consumed with the guilt of putting her family through the slavery she had for the last year, the façade of strength she fought so hard to maintain finally crumbled before her. The rag fell from her fingers, and as her body folded in upon itself, she caught her face in her hands. She stifled her crying as best she could while mourning Martha's death. Her chest ached with the loss of the woman she considered a good friend and a caring second mother.

And while her tears flowed for Martha, Catherine was overwhelmed by the reality that she had actually killed a man herself. The memory of the death shock hovered at the edge of her grief, and she fought against it as she saw her mother's smile that was full of forgiveness for what she had done.

Biting her lower lip to hold in the sob that was on the verge of releasing, Catherine was overwhelmed with the remorse that she would never see Nathaniel again. For months, they remained just at the edge of each other's range, each too afraid to step closer to the other. Then, their compasses had finally begun to align, and when fate had released the walls between them there was no denying the inevitable connection they shared. For the first time in her life, Catherine knew she was in love, and she had endangered the only man with whom she had so willingly shared her heart.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16**_

 **The Demands**

Nathaniel brought the cutlass around again, the steel ringing loudly against Kenway's hidden blade. Holding the long dagger in his left hand in a reverse grip to protect his forearm, Nathaniel blocked the retaliation of Kenway's cutlass from his other hand. Breaking the initial block, Nathaniel ducked under the spinning cutlass aimed at his head and used the dagger to block the strike. Following through, he shifted his cutlass towards Kenway's torso, another clang echoing between them.

Their dance had grown over the course of the last week. What started as clumsy and awkward on Nathaniel's part had developed fluidity. Instead of just one or two lucky strikes, their volleys were lasting for long minutes at a time before Nathaniel slipped or misjudged the attack and received a nick on his skin for his troubles. His footwork was still lacking in coordination at times, but the courier had come a long way. His maneuvers were growing from random swinging into strategy, and just three days ago, he had quickly begun using the dagger to defend against strikes. Edward was certain that if the lad had to stand his ground against an adversary, he would now survive the battle. A week earlier, he knew that he would have been digging a grave for him.

Alexander took a temporary leave of absence from his business while he worked on retrieving the Ribbon from his contacts, and he had temporarily altered Nathaniel's contract during that time, providing him with rations and shelter in lieu of wages. He opened his yard to both men to use for their practices so that they would be kept secluded from any prying eyes throughout the island. Alexander did not press for any details regarding whatever courtship he assumed his daughter had taken with the courier. Instead of interrogating Nathaniel, he merely kept his distance to give the two men who were most capable of saving Catherine the time and space they needed to prepare for the battle to bring her home.

Rather than running errands, Nathaniel spent the majority of each day in combat, with Edward talking him through his thoughts as he demonstrated the techniques he learned over the years. The courier was a quick study, despite his stumbles and missteps. He refused to be defeated, even when he was on the ground and pinned. The young man's eyes were fierce with the need to make himself a worthy opponent against the Templars in order to save Catherine.

Catching another block on his hidden blade from Nathaniel's attack, Edward brought his cutlass around, and the two blades crashed loudly to his left in the mid-afternoon shade of their trees by the dock of the _Jackdaw_.

The cutlasses pushed against each other, neither man allowing the other any slack. They were in this fight to the end, and Edward was going to push Nathaniel to the next level. A week ago, something had trigged in the lad, and a resolve he had not shown previously had surfaced. He found a rhythm in his soul that only he could hear, and there were times that Edward would have sworn he was possessed by a devil. Then, Nathaniel would make a clumsy mistake, and Edward understood that the young man had finally starting to feel the Assassin blood in his veins guide him.

Edward decided to end the stalemate, and he kicked towards his opponent. Nathaniel caught the boot in his thigh and tumbled backwards. However, he didn't stay down for long and with a renewed purpose, he brought the cutlass around, starting another volley of the blades ringing their song.

This latest battle had gone for at least ten minutes before Edward took control of the skirmish. He ended it by twisting Nathaniel's cutlass on his own and as it flew across the sand, he brought the hidden blade under the lad's neck.

"Aye, you've become quite the scrapper in a week," Edward smiled, retracting the blade back into his hidden sheath.

Nathaniel stepped over to the cutlass and picked it up, wiping it against his pant leg to remove the sand that clung to it. He gave the dagger a twirl in his hand as he set it in the sheath by his side.

"It's been a week since they took Catherine. I'm starting to think this is all in vain," he sighed. "We don't even know where she is. What if they just simply killed her and decided not to say anything?"

"She's alive, at least for now," came a reply that was not Edward's.

Both men turned to see Alexander Robinson looking weary, as though he just spent his last twelve hours in a tavern for all the wrong reasons.

The older man was only a shadow of the stately merchant he once portrayed. His hair was unkempt, and the ribbon holding it was useless with the exception of a small lock still caught in the bow at the nape of his neck. His white shirt looked slept in, and his trousers were wrinkled with ink stains. The bruising that had been on his face had receded considerably, giving his skin light discolorations.

With shaking fingers, Alexander brought forth a piece of parchment that he handed over to Edward.

The pirate took it and opened it, reading its contents as he scratched at the thin beard on his chin before giving the parchment to the younger man.

Nathaniel's eyes looked over the text for a long minute, and no matter how many times he read it, the words never changed. His heart froze in his chest, and his hands shook in anger.

 _Your daughter is as stubborn as you and will remain in our custody.  
If you want any hope of saving her, you will start preparations to get us the Ribbon.  
Your lack of cooperation will see that she is hung at the gallows for the murder of Ezekiel Brown.  
Plan to meet at sunrise in two days' time on the western beach where the shipwreck of the _Merchant _rests.  
We will discuss plans and a reasonable time for exchange then.  
Your lone presence is requested, as there will be no negotiation if you rely on outside resources._

"There must be some way we can trick them," Nathaniel said as his eyes darted between the Assassin and the father of the woman he loved.

Alexander sighed heavily and shook his head in helplessness. "All I can do is meet with them to fully understand their demands and ensure that they will release Catherine as they said they would."

Nathaniel was persistent. "Why don't you just give us the Ribbon and let us use it against them? The stories claim it would make a man nearly invincible. Why can't we use it?"

"Aye, lad, I understand your thoughts, and I had them as well," Edward agreed. "But, if we use the Ribbon, then the Templars will see to it that Catherine never makes it to the gallows."

"I don't know what to do," Alexander sniveled, his shoulders falling in defeat. "I caused this when I didn't try to rescue my wife, and I just can't bear to watch Catherine hang because of her honorable intentions. My heart begs me to do everything to save her, but if I give the Templars the Ribbon, I doom humanity to a fate that is certainly unredeemable."

Edward crossed his arms over his chest and considered the situation for a long moment. "Aye, meet with them, as they demand. We will stand our ground in the shadows. Perhaps, they will say something or we will see something on them that will tell us where to find your daughter."

Alexander looked between the two men. "I just want her safe."

"Aye, that is what we intend as well," Edward agreed. "If we need the Ribbon, how long would it take for you to retrieve it?"

"At least two more weeks," Alexander replied wearily. "I've started the process, but it's been arranged so only after specific criteria has been put in place that its guardian will know it's safe to return it to me."

Edward nodded. "Good. During the negotiations, tell Catherine's captors that you need five weeks, and if they don't agree, negotiate for as much time as you can get. Aye, I want a reasonable timeframe so we can keep your daughter alive for as long as possible."

"Do you have a plan?" Nathaniel asked, the first ray of hope finally glowing in his eyes.

"No, lad, which is why I want as much time as I can get," Edward responded, aware of how he just shattered Nathaniel's spark of hope. "I want to know just what we're up against first."

 **Tricks of the Templars**

There had been no further correspondence from the Templars after the note they left for Alexander with their demands. In the days leading up to the meeting, Nathaniel had grown more restless, and when he wasn't in a skirmish with Edward, he was shadow-fighting through the motions of what he had already learned, perfecting his skills as best he could.

Long before dawn on the morning of Alexander Robinson's meeting with the Templars, Edward and Nathaniel had settled themselves into strategic hiding places to keep watch and listen in on the negotiations between Alexander Robinson and the Templars.

Nathaniel had settled himself low into the thick brush at the edge of the trees and shrubs, and he was approximately twenty yards from where the meeting would take place. It was close, but it was still not close enough for him. He wanted to be freeing Catherine while her captors were busy with Alexander. Unfortunately, the Templars were keeping that information close to themselves, and there was nothing in the letter they received from them to hint where they were keeping her. Still, he would hold himself in the place he was situated because he knew that if he revealed his position, no matter what was said, he would risk any kind of harm to Catherine.

Edward had climbed into the gutted hull of the shipwreck and peered around the broken boards, giving him perfect access to the negotiations. He had reviewed earlier with Nathaniel to keep his awareness open and his concentration alert for sounds and anything that would provide them with hints as to Catherine's whereabouts. He had planned to do the same, but from his vantage point, he had better access to the conversation. Now, it was a matter of keeping hidden and letting Robinson get Edward as much extra time as was possible.

Alexander stood upon the beach and folded his hands behind his back. He looked to the darkness over the sea and knew that when the sun rose on the island of Nassau behind him, he would have put the fate of his daughter and of the world in hands that were not his. What he did not expect was that the humble and devoted courier who had handled his correspondence for months carried the invisible mark of the Assassin. Of all the people he had met in his travels, Nathaniel Coles was the last person he would have predicted belonged to the Brotherhood. He had wondered if his own daughter was an Assassin, and he wished she was because it would have given him hope that she would find a way to escape her captors. However, when Alexander asked Captain Kenway privately, he sadly explained that Catherine had no extraordinary blood in her veins, and her involvement with the Templars and Assassins was purely coincidental.

A woman's voice broke Alexander's ponderings, and he inhaled for calm.

"Mister Robinson, thank you for heeding our caution."

Turning, he saw a woman cloaked in green, the very same pickpocket who he had been told had started all their troubles in Nassau when she took Catherine's purse. She referred to herself as Abigail, and that was all anyone knew of her, besides the fact that she was involved with the Templars.

On either side of Abigail stood two mercenaries. They were both worn and hardened men who were being paid handsome Templar coin that Alexander could not possibly afford to contest. All three were armed and ready for a confrontation, if they so willed it. Their scars and weapons told of the kinds of people they were, and it was likely that they would even give Captain Kenway a tough fight. Alexander decided to do his best to avoid that because he needed these people to work with him if he had any chance of Catherine being returned to him.

"I want proof that Catherine is unharmed," Alexander said formally, putting on his best merchant's face and preparing to negotiate as he would for his business.

"On my honor as a woman, I can assure you that she had been safely kept from harm's way," Abigail answered. "I had no intention to hurt Catherine, as she once studied under my tutelage. But, I offered her something grand, and she refused. Your family's combined stubbornness has left me with no choice but to play the hand I was given."

"If you care for her, why bring her to execution?" Alexander questioned, unable to prevent the pleading from entering his voice. Whatever toughened merchant exterior he started with was quickly breaking at the thought of Catherine dying because of her convictions. It was not how he taught her to negotiate, and he could not even fathom what this Abigail had promised her that forced her to refuse.

"It was not a choice I took lightly," Abigail replied, as a flash of sadness crossed her features in the pre-dawn gray. "I do not want to see her harmed any more than you do, but this was the only way I could get your cooperation. My threat is not idle, and Catherine knows this. You have proven your unwillingness to cooperate with us when we had your wife. Perhaps, if I was not witness to Catherine murdering one of our associates, she would not be in her situation."

Alexander clenched his fists, as Abigail's words had only solidified the fact that it was his negligence to rescue Sarah that had put Catherine in her place of imprisonment and impending death. If his daughter did not take it upon herself to prevent his wife's death, she would still be safe.

Unable to hold back, Alexander offered what he had been told to bargain. "I need five weeks to get you the Ribbon."

"You have two," Abigail shot back coldly.

"You don't understand. I have a series of safeguards in place that take time," Alexander argued. "If I do them too fast or too soon, my contact will know something is wrong, and the Ribbon will never be delivered."

Abigail shook her head and crossed her arms. "Five weeks is unreasonable. You have three."

"Please," Alexander begged, "I must have no less than four."

"Three or I send my witness declaration to the governor after sunrise today," Abigail said, keeping firm.

Pushing a hand through his hair and nodding weakly, Alexander agreed, "Three weeks."

Abigail pointed to the sand beneath them. "We will meet here again before sunrise in exactly three weeks from this morning."

"How will I know you will keep Catherine safe and unharmed in that time?"

Raising an eyebrow, Abigail countered, "And, how will I know you will be true to your word and acquire the Ribbon from your contact?"

"Because I want my daughter returned to me alive and unharmed," Alexander quietly replied.

"Then, we both want the same thing, and you will need to trust me, Mister Robinson. I will see you in three weeks."

Edward waited until Abigail and her escort were out of sight. Then, he ran towards the brush where Nathaniel was hiding. When the young man caught his eye, Edward held out his hand in a gesture indicating for him to hold back.

Whispering, he ordered, "You tend to Robinson, lad. I'll tail them and see if I can find where they are hiding Catherine."

Before he gave Nathaniel the chance to object, Edward blended himself into the brush near the beach, keeping himself hidden in the cover of leaves and trees. He refused to lose the trail now that he was on it. Abigail and her two mercenaries were staying just ahead of him in the brightening dawn. They moved with purpose through the brush that led them back into the streets of Nassau. They shared no conversation as they walked, which gave Edward no additional clues and meant that the mercenaries were probably just for back-up in case Robinson did something stupid.

Keeping low in the thick ferns, Edward then decided his next course of action as the streets opened before him. There were not a lot of people moving through for him to hide within, and as he watched the three turn a corner to the street on the left, he took a running leap and grabbed onto the awning attached to the building in the direction they had gone.

Clambering onto the roof, Edward willed the tiles beneath his feet to remain silent. He caught sight of Abigail and the two mercenaries at an intersection just beyond the building across from him. The two mercenaries broke off in one direction, and Abigail went in another. Taking his chances, he decided to follow the pickpocket, with the hopes that she would return to the place where Catherine was being held.

Edward jumped across the roof and landed in a crouch, keeping his eyes on Abigail as she now zig-zagged through the streets. Keeping pace with her as he moved across the roofs, Edward jumped from one to the next and ran across the ropes that were tied between buildings. As the sun came up over the distance, the light brought more people into the streets, and he had to concentrate his efforts into keeping watch on her as she moved.

Another few turns and rooftops later, Abigail pushed open the door to the tavern and disappeared inside. Edward stayed upon the roof, his likeness that of a crouched eagle awaiting its prey. He had no idea how long she would stay inside the tavern, but she didn't seem the type to indulge in the not-so-fine spirits of Nassau.

He waited upon his perch for about ten minutes when he decided that he would just coincidentally enter the tavern for his own drink. Leaping off the roof, he landed softly in the wagon of hay that the farmer had left in the middle of the street while he took his early morning tankard of ale.

Freeing himself of the wagon, Edward moved to the tavern and pushed open the door. It was relatively quiet, with three patrons sitting in the seats and the man tending the bar wiping the tankards in preparation of the day's business. Peering beneath his hood, Edward saw no sign of Abigail. Two of the men were sitting in a corner mulling over a chessboard, and the farmer was nursing the tankard that was set on the table before him on the opposite side of the room.

Edward casually walked up to the barkeep and laid a coin on the counter. "Aye, morning. I was told to meet a woman here. She said I would know her by her green coat."

The barkeep took the coin and leaned forward. "There was a woman by that description. Left through the back door. She said she wanted to avoid her drunk husband."

"I assure you, mate, I am not that," Edward smiled and left another coin on the counter. "I was never here."

Edward made his way to the back door that the barkeep had pointed out. When he exited, he saw no sign of Abigail. Moving about the nearby buildings, he found a wall with plenty of overhangs, and without hesitation, he climbed up the windows and ledges, situating himself back on the roof. From the top of the tavern, he concentrated again on the populace below, but he could find no sign of Abigail in the small crowds of people that had started taking to the streets. He moved about a few more rooftops, but where ever Abigail had gone, it was not within sight of Edward's enhanced vision.

Cursing under his breath, he now had to return to Nathaniel and Alexander with the news that he had failed in following Abigail and that Catherine was still lost to them. He wasn't sure how much longer either of those men could stand the heartbreak of losing the woman they both cared about in different ways. In fact, Edward was growing increasing frustrated about the young woman's disappearance, and while he would not admit it to anyone, he felt his own failure over her abduction. The only consolation Edward had was that Robinson had managed to buy them the three weeks they needed to keep Nathaniel training and to keep Edward hunting.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

 **The Thread of Sanity**

Catherine took another long sip of the cool tea and tried to remember what it felt like to have the warmth of the sun stroke upon her face. Her room had now been upgraded to four torches, and the firelight was better than the darkness that she had originally been succumbed to living within. There was a warmth from the torches that took some of the chill out of the stone and wooden walls around her, and she could not even imagine how the men and women who requested their dark fantasies were remotely comfortable in these conditions, especially if they were wearing minimal clothing.

She had lost track of how many days it had been without the sun and moon to guide her, but she had slept for at least a few hours at some point during each of the long stretches of hours, so she had to assume it had been a few days by now. In that time, she had heard the comings and goings of the courtesans and their clients. Sometimes a client's session was short with whatever fantasy he or she enacted ending quickly. Most of the time, however, the sessions went on for what seemed an eternity without a clock to know for certain. Catherine had finally grown accustomed to the noises, no longer thinking of them as a nuisance but instead as a reminder that she was not entirely isolated and that there were other people still nearby.

Catherine had managed one day to get the attention of one of the girls before she started her session, but the woman was less than friendly and refused to acknowledge Catherine's questions. Another time, there was another courtesan who had just finished her session, but she merely giggled at her, not realizing that Catherine was not part of some twisted fantasy. She jokingly said that she would advise the warden to not forget about her.

Sometime after those fruitless attempts to get help, Abigail had returned and told Catherine that the Madame who ran the brothel had been paid handsomely to advise her courtesans that Catherine had wished for a prisoner fantasy, and no one was to take what she said seriously. She was to remain locked in the cell and that the captors who were monitoring her would handle every aspect of her needs. If any of the courtesans were caught attempting to get involved, they would lose a week's earnings.

In the meantime, Abigail had provided Catherine with clothes, food, and supplies for her to wash herself. The clothes were never anything other than the basics she would need to stay adequately covered but fresh. They were lightweight dresses in muted colors that were more suited for sleeping than for a woman born of Catherine's status, and the undergarments were what she could only imagine a courtesan considered a loose interpretation of pantaloons and corsets. She had not seen the green dress or the other clothes that she wore the night of her abduction, and she had begun to believe that they were divvied up amongst the residents of the brothel.

While the clothing she had been supplied with was clean and fresh, it gave Catherine a sense of nakedness that left her bared and uncomfortable. She often used the thin blanket to wrap around herself to keep from feeling so exposed, and she knew it was part of Abigail's mental torment to encourage her to change her mind and accept her place in the new world Abigail was planning.

Holding the cup of tea tightly in her hands, Catherine heard the door to her cell unlock. She brought her eyes upon her former mentor and could clearly read the look of victory and relief upon Abigail's face.

"If all goes well, in three weeks, I will have what I need, and you will no longer be confined to this cell."

Catherine swallowed hard, but it was not from taking a sip of the tea in her cup. Instead, it was out of uncertainty and disbelief.

Looking to her former mentor, Catherine said, "My father would never hand over the Ribbon. How are you so sure?"

Abigail crossed her arms over her chest, and stared down at her prisoner. "The look of anguish in his eyes at the thought of your death has broken him. I had never seen a man so powerless before. For as much as he thought he had a hold on us, I have taken that hold and nearly strangled him with his own persistence."

"And, once you get the Ribbon, I am to go free?" Catherine asked carefully.

Abigail Smith's eyes flashed with a coldness that only enhanced how dead Elizabeth Talbot truly was. "If you do not join me, we will be enemies, but you will be free. However, if your father does not hand over the Ribbon in three weeks, the governor will learn of your crime. You would still meet your fate at the gallows. I have made certain your father knows that this threat is not idle. Again, I beg you to change your mind."

Catherine closed her eyes and took that breath that always gave her strength. When she looked to Abigail once more, she repeated the same words that she had every time Abigail tried to persuade her decision. "I told you if I joined you I would only betray you, and you've had more than enough betrayal in your life. I cannot deny that I killed a man, and I carry the memory of what I had done every day."

Abigail let out a hard breath. "Catherine, the Assassin that you hope will fix this could not even tail me back here efficiently. He is but a drunken pirate who has only managed to get as far as he had in life by sheer luck. Your faith in him and his Brotherhood is wasted. If any of the Assassins are anything like him, it shows just how disjointed they are and that they would bring nothing but chaos to everything I would set right."

Catherine turned away from the green-cloaked woman and once again thought about that night she and Captain Kenway had rescued her mother, ensuring that she was taken to a place that the Assassin had promised her was safe. Whatever drunken reputation the man had acquired in the past was not who he was now, and Catherine had no reason not to trust him. If there were other Assassins who were as brash as Kenway, then maybe the Templars might not stand a chance because they could not handle that much disorganization.

"Whether or not Captain Kenway saves me is irrelevant," Catherine softly stated. "What's important is that he keeps the Ribbon from those who would use it to enslave humanity."

Frustrated, Abigail shook her head. "It would be a pity if you spent your last days locked away from the light of the sun and the freedom of the world, Catherine. I had such hopes for you, such certainty that you would have changed your mind and saw what I am trying to achieve for us. I don't understand why you continue to put your trust in these men who had done nothing like what I can do for you."

"Because those men had done everything to protect me as well as others, and I can find no fault in that," Catherine replied softly, again thinking of her mother being brought to safety by a crew of men.

"Then, I am truly sorry," Abigail said quietly, regret in every word. "You should pray your father gives me the Ribbon so that you and I may part in the hopes we never meet again. If he does not follow through, I will be the one to ensure that your noose is tied appropriately because I would not want you alive to witness the suffering I will execute on him."

A heartbeat later, Abigail was gone, and for once the only sound that followed was of silence. Catherine looked into her cold tea and studied the fatigue on her reflection. She was to remain in her prison for at least three more weeks, and there were times already when she felt emotionally weak. She was not certain she could endure three more weeks of torchlight, human noises, and the heartache of seeing her former mentor broken into someone else.

The only consolation Catherine had in all this was that Abigail had never mentioned Nathaniel. As long as she was not taunting Catherine with news of his death or bragging about how he landed on the edge of her blade, Catherine held onto the possibility that he was still safe and not involved. It was a minor hope to have since her mother remained safely hidden, but knowing Nathaniel was out of harm's way as well was the only thread that she consistently had left to hold.

 **The Strength of a Memory**

After Captain Kenway left to follow the pickpocket, Nathaniel escorted Catherine's father to his home while they awaited the Assassin's return. Alexander had immediately begun work on the next string of correspondence that was to continue the long and tedious codes that would ensure the Ribbon arrived within the next three weeks.

"How could you lose her?" Nathaniel softly asked in frustration as he stood against the wall outside the business office of Master Robinson. He was keeping his voice low so he would not distract the older man as he worked on his transactions.

"Do you think I wanted to, mate?" Edward shot back quietly. "I know what Catherine means to you. Aye, I can see it all over your face."

Nathaniel felt his eyes fall to the floor in anguish and disappointment, knowing none of this truly was Kenway's fault. It was these Templars who had brought on his frustration. Whoever this Abigail was, she was devious and cunning, and it only gave him more reason to fear what was happening to Catherine in her imprisonment.

His thoughts were growing dark from the heartbreak that had been consuming him, and he did not want to lose hope for Catherine. Knowing that he needed a place where he could think clearly and be alone for a while, Nathaniel pushed past Kenway and moved towards the door.

"Where are you going, lad?" Edward asked.

"To relive a memory," Nathaniel softly replied as he pushed open the door and let himself out of the house.

He glanced around at the porch where he and Catherine had started the shortest courtship in the history of courtships. In his memories, he saw her sitting on the garden bench and her smile radiated the entire yard. She emotionally warmed him in a way that no other woman could, and her kind eyes could hold him captive just by glancing at him.

Moving through the yard, he followed the course she had told him to take the night everything changed for them in so many ways. It seemed so different taking the path in the daylight, as he could see all the greenery that marked the land outside the fence of her family's property. The trees were lush, a combination of palm and other species that Nathaniel had never bothered to learn. All he could see was that where it wasn't green, it was dotted with a multitude of colored flowers and where there was no plant life, it was full of sand.

Continuing on the path that would lead him to Catherine's private sanctuary, Nathaniel had the insane notion that he would round the corner, and she would be sitting on the downed tree, just as she had promised she would that night. He imagined her smile as she turned to him and told him how the Templars had freed her unexpectedly and she came to this place to wait for him.

He ducked under the low-hanging branches of the trees and stepped around the shrubs, his heart pounding in his chest, praying his hope was not wasted. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the alcove that Catherine had showed him and felt the stabbing pain in his chest at the sight of the empty tree.

He walked with a heavy heart to the same place he sat the night he met Catherine here. Gently falling onto the tree, he looked to the ocean waves in the distance, listening to their muted roar. He didn't remember hearing those waves when he was with Catherine, and he assumed it was because her compassion had drowned out every noise that night as he bathed in the luxury of her kindness.

Reaching into the pocket of the brown courier jacket that he still wore, Nathaniel pulled out his small leather journal. He thumbed through the pages slowly, reading some of the verses he had written. Some were written as he thought about Catherine and others were just words he put together when his moods or emotions called for them to be written.

Softly, he read the words of one of the entries to no one but himself and the distant ocean.

" _Have you known that I am here?  
Have I ever caught your eye?  
Would you forgive me because I care?  
Would show contempt for what I feel?  
Am I bold to say such things?  
Am I wrong to hold you dear?  
Do you ever feel the same?  
Do you wish to have me near?_"

"It doesn't all rhyme, mate," Edward teased lightly, trying to bring some levity to the young man's broken heart.

"It's not meant to be a rhyme," Nathaniel shot back softly as he sighed and closed the book. Continuing to hold the journal in his hands, he brought his eyes to the ocean, rather than to the Assassin behind him who had become a friend in some twisted way. He was the man who gotten him as far as he had in his training, and he was someone that Nathaniel dared to consider was worthy of his time. "And, what part of reliving a memory did you think included you?"

Edward set his hands on his hips and looked out to the distant ocean, admiring the view. He had no doubt as to why this place was so special to the young apprentice, and he decided he would not taint it with his lingering presence.

"I'm heading back to the _Jackdaw_ , to check in on my crew," Edward explained, "I imagine you'll make your way there eventually, and we can continue with your lessons whenever you're ready."

Nathaniel heard something unspoken in Captain Kenway's voice, something that almost seemed sympathetic. He turned to offer him his thanks, but the pirate had already made his way out of the alcove and was moving quietly through the brush and trees that led back to the edge of the Robinson property.

Bringing his eyes forward again, Nathaniel settled them along the leather-bound journal in his hands. He never did get to read any of his verses to Catherine, and when he proposed the idea she had seemed eager to learn what he had written. For some reason, with her, he was comfortable revealing those parts of himself that he kept safely locked away from everyone else.

Now in the solitude of his loneliness, he opened the book again and returned to the verse he had read before Kenway appeared. As his eyes skimmed the words, he mentally answered each verse.

 _Have you known that I am here?_ _Have I ever caught your eye?_ Yes, Catherine knew that he was there, and more than once their eyes had caught, their stares mutually holding on to each other for longer than was necessary. _Would you forgive me because I care? Would show contempt for what I feel?_ She forgave him when he feared he had crossed a line and expressed his emotions, and she harbored no contempt for him, offering her emotions in return. _Am I bold to say such things? Am I wrong to hold you dear?_ He may have been bold at moments, but she was grateful that they had finally moved beyond those elongated stares and polite greetings. _Do you ever feel the same? Do you wish to have me near?_ He knew she felt the same, and there was no denying what she revealed about her emotions for him when she pulled him to her during their kiss.

Nathaniel still felt her touch on him, the memory of the warmth of her skin and the roughness of her calluses as real in his recollections as they were in those moments. Her kiss was emboldened and impassioned, the longing that they had shared for so long crashing in a wave of hunger and emotion that had outshined the touch of the few other women he had known. Nathaniel would never deny that Catherine had opened some part of him that he had kept protected and shielded, and he ached without knowing where she was.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and lowered his head, seeing her again in his memories, swallowing the hardness in his throat. He could not lose hope, and he would not give up on her. Where ever Catherine was, she was still alive, and that meant they either had three weeks to find her or three weeks to exchange her for the Ribbon the Templars wanted so desperately. That meant he had three weeks to train with Captain Kenway and become the man who would strike down everyone who stood between him and Catherine's freedom.

Pushing the single tear off his cheek that he didn't even realize had slipped free, Nathaniel closed the journal and returned it to the pocket of his brown courier's jacket. He stood and gave Catherine's personal sanctuary a final look. The blood of his grandmother started awakening again in him, and he knew that he was now ready to start another lesson. He would save Catherine or he would die in the process, but he would not let the Templars take her life.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

 **Deceptive Exchange**

Two nights ago had brought with it strong thunderstorms, but the humidity that had been suppressing the island had once again been released. It seemed the natural cycle of Nassau was to have a few days of humidity that all built into a storm of might and anger and then in its wake there was a cleansing in the air that brought with it a cool breeze that refreshed the senses.

It was in the midst of that storm – that seemingly angry god of weather – that Nathaniel had what he felt was a brilliant flash of an idea for the day Abigail wanted to exchange the Ribbon for Catherine. Nathaniel had not expected Kenway to agree to his idea in any degree, but the Assassin had mulled it over for quite some time before finally accepting it as a viable option.

Now that the day of the exchange was upon them, Nathaniel was having his doubts about what he had conjured in that violent storm, but they could not change their minds at this point. The plan had been put into motion, and to try and undo what they had already started now would certainly lay ruin to the exchange that needed to take place in order to bring Catherine safely home.

Nathaniel had worked every day in those three weeks, practicing his skills and building upon the foundation that Kenway had taught him. The small nicks on his skin when they started had grown deeper and more violent, and it was because Nathaniel insisted they push. He wanted the ability to ignore pain when it struck, and the only way he could do that was to fight with Kenway as though he was a true enemy. For his troubles, Nathaniel had spent his evenings closing wounds, both the ones on his skin and the one in his heart.

While awaiting Abigail and whatever cohorts she would have in her midst, Edward kept his eyes searching around them in the darkness before the light of dawn. It was on this very beach three weeks ago that Alexander Robinson had relented to the Templars that he would give them the Ribbon of Samson for the safe exchange of his daughter. The merchant had spent those three weeks moving from the confines of his business office where he worked on correspondence to going on private deliveries and leaving documents in dead drops where replies were dropped off in the lifeless hours of the night.

By the end of the three weeks, a package had silently arrived on Robinson's business desk. There had been no break-in and no one had seen anyone bring it. Edward had begun to wonder if Alexander had been in contact with a faction of Assassins, and he had somehow managed to have them safeguard the Ribbon. If that was the case, it would explain Captain Robert Jordan's seeming disappearance without any trail to follow. And, if that was true, Edward wondered exactly what Alexander had told them that would give them enough reason to release the Ribbon back into the hands of the Templar underling that Robinson had been portraying.

Movement had come across the beach, darkened shadows that moved against the night before dawn, and Alexander Robinson held the small, thin box in his hands. It was no longer than six inches and no wider than three, but was deep enough for a small clasp to keep the box hinged on the outside. He brought his eyes forward to the green-cloaked woman and her entourage of five mercenaries. Alexander fought to see in the darkness, but he had been able to discern that one of the men carried a small form over his shoulder, and as he set the form on the ground before him, Alexander gave a soft breath of relief.

His daughter's golden hair was loose and fell in waves around her shoulders, draping down her back, as she was set on her knees before the mercenary who had carried her. She was clothed in a lavender dress that he had never seen on her before, and the fabric had been cut to plunge deeply towards her cleavage. The sleeves were shorter than her usual wardrobe, with lace trickling off her upper arms, the material of the clothing no longer hiding the scars along her forearms. The skirts of the dress had fallen to her ankles, with a large slit in the material near her left leg reaching towards her thigh that revealed the worn, brown shoes that he knew did not belong to her. Alexander took a saddened breath at how they dressed his daughter like a mere courtesan and that she looked slightly thinner and paler than when he last saw her.

Alexander swallowed dryly as he saw Catherine's arms were pulled behind her in ropes that held her arms, but not her spirit. When the mercenary grasped her hair, he pulled her head back to expose the knife he held against her neck.

"I brought you what you wanted," Alexander pleaded, his heart in his throat at the sight of his daughter's threatened life. He prayed that her captors had done nothing more to her than just hold her prisoner, and that the revealing outfit she was wearing was part of their scare tactics. "There is no need to harm Catherine now."

Abigail glanced to her former student, looking to the way her brown eyes shone in the defiance that had always reflected so strongly in those days when they trained. The girl was a force of her own, and even in her weakest moments, she still could hold a reservoir of strength that most people could not imagine. Then, Abigail brought her eyes to the man before her, his begging showing just how weak he truly was. Abigail knew she had all the power in this moment, and she intended to use it.

"I want the Assassin that is hiding in the shipwreck to come forth," Abigail sternly commanded. "Did he not think I knew he was here during our last discussion?"

Catherine twisted the ropes behind her, feeling for the slightest loose thread but keeping her head as straight as possible. She was careful to not put pressure against the cool steel that touched upon her skin but the man's grip on her hair was painful enough to keep her in place. She did not expect that Captain Kenway would have given into Abigail's demands, but her gasp caught when she saw the outline of a hooded figure emerge from the broken hull of the shipwreck.

"Now, Assassin," Abigail commanded, "You will keep yourself distant from this exchange. Get on your knees and place your hands on your head. I want you to witness this defeat to your Brotherhood before we run you through."

Alexander watched as the hooded figure he had depended on to save Catherine remained at least thirty feet from them. It erased any hope he had that the captain would be able to get to his daughter and save her from being slaughtered. He now had to put all his trust in his courier, and for as much as he had seen the young man's abilities grow, he was still nowhere as talented in combat as Kenway.

A musket cocked with a click and Alexander saw the mercenary standing to the right and just outside of Abigail's tight circle of mercenaries hold the musket aimed at Kenway. With a heavy heart, Alexander knew he had no choice now but to turn the Ribbon over to the very people he had done his best to prevent from ever owning it.

Abigail stood proud and assured of her victory. "Robinson, your daughter's freedom is on you now. Only you can choose whether we take her back to her prison and await the gallows or release her on this very place."

"You have my word that I carry with me the authentic Ribbon of Samson," Alexander implored. "I have done no deceit, and I only ask that you spare my daughter."

Abigail took a single step forward, keeping the three mercenaries at her back as though they were a human wall. "She will be released after I have tested the Ribbon myself. If it does as promised, I will release her. Now, Mister Robinson, come forth."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" screamed the mercenary behind Abigail on her left. He raised his sword and slashed it into the mercenary closest to him, killing him instantly. "How could you betray us? Oh, God! The traitors come for us! Death is everywhere."

The mercenary who had his musket aimed at the Assassin turned to see what was happening behind him. Moving swiftly, the Assassin brought forth his weapons, and sliced the smaller blade across the mercenary's hand that was holding the musket. Blood poured from the wound, and ducking around the mercenary's attempt to fire the weapon from a deadened hand, the Assassin then plunged the cutlass into his stomach.

The mercenary who was holding Catherine loosened the knife from her neck to look around him. When he saw the carnage his associates had done near him, he let her go to bring his sword forward and defend himself from his possessed comrades.

"Bastards!" shouted another mercenary. "You have betrayed me, and I will see that you are all dead!"

Abigail saw the merchant standing in the distance from the carnage behind her, and she would not waste the opportunity. She began moving towards Alexander Robinson when, out of the brush near the shore, a brown-dressed courier raced past her and yanked the box from Alexander's hands. He kept moving, not slowing for an instant, and Abigail growled in frustration as she set herself in motion to catch up with him.

The men who were struck with the poison had fallen down and were gurgling on the last of their breaths. Seeing that the immediate threats around Robinson's daughter had been defeated, the hooded Assassin ran towards Catherine, and fell in behind her, slicing the ropes from her hands.

She pulled her arms apart and wasted no time as she stood up, attempting to move forward. Her voice could only release one word, and in her anguish, she shouted, "Nathaniel!"

"Catherine, stop." The Assassin grasped her wrist before she could she start running, using his strength to hold her back, but she fought against him so she could get free and follow in the direction that the courier had run.

Her voice cracked with heartache, her struggling to break free reinforced. "No, Nathaniel…"

"I'm right here," the hooded Assassin said as kept his grasp on her and stepped in her path, blocking her from running.

As Catherine's eyes looked to the Assassin's face, she saw him pull the hood back with one of his hands, and, in the breaking light of dawn, she immediately recognized his hazel irises and light, brown hair with hints of auburn. The pale glow in the distance had painted enough brightness that she saw his indistinguishable facial features that had earned her attention so long ago. With a shaky hand, she raised it to be sure he was real, and as her fingers brushed Nathaniel's chin, she took in a breath as though waking from a nightmare.

Unable to stop himself, Nathaniel released his hold on her and cupped her cheek with his right hand, looking at the woman who had captured his heart in ways he would never understand. Her brown irises still held their overwhelming kindness in them, despite her ordeals for the past few weeks, and it only provoked the flame of affection he had for her.

His voice was soft, unable to disguise his emotions at seeing her safe again. "Catherine…"

Before he could say what he needed, she grasped Kenway's Assassin robes that Nathaniel was wearing and leaned into him, her lips pressing in an urgency she had never known before.

Nathaniel did not resist and his left hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. His right hand slid to the back of her head, and his fingers tangled into the heat of her long hair, feeling the smoothness of the strands tickling over his skin. He returned her kiss, grateful for her safety and elated that her affections for him did not wane during her imprisonment. However, the reality of the Templars and the Ribbon of Samson bit into his happiness with Catherine. For as much as he wanted to stay in this moment forever, he knew he was not done yet with the chase for the Ribbon.

Easing his lips from hers, Nathaniel saw so much in her brown irises, and it emboldened him to finally finish what he started the night of her abduction. "I have the Assassin blood, Catherine. I didn't know it at first, but I came to recently understand that my grandmother was an Assassin."

Catherine took a startled breath at his confession, her eyes studying his irises, and seeing only the same kindness in the man before her that she had always known of him. Softly, she replied, "It doesn't change what I feel for you."

Stepping back and dropping his hand from her waist, Nathaniel brushed his thumb over her cheek gently, regretting that he had to be separated from her again. "I will explain everything in detail when I return."

In a blink, Nathaniel was racing in the direction that the others had gone. Catherine took a sharp breath and watched him disappear into the trees and underbrush of the island. Then, her eyes looked down to the sword lying beside the dead mercenary's hand.

"Catherine, don't," Alexander pleaded as he moved closer and finally understood the depth of emotion that his daughter had developed for his courier, and he began to think that he would never truly know her. "Please, don't. You'll be hanged for certain, and I just got you back."

Catherine paused for the slightest of moments, considering her father's words. However, the pull she felt to be with Nathaniel was stronger, and she would not leave the man she had secretly loved for months to the fate of the Templars.

"I'm sorry, Father," Catherine softly told him as she picked up the sword, "But, I can't stop what I feel for him. I'm in love with Nathaniel, and I won't be apart from him again."

Alexander stood helpless as he watched his daughter chase after the Assassins, and he knew now that he would never have the ability to keep her safe. He had made the mistake years ago with indulging in her adventurous spirit, and he had lost her a long time ago. He never should have allowed her to take those fencing lessons because it had been the end of her innocence and no matter how much he thought he was protecting her, she could never be protected enough.

 **The Trap is Sprung**

Edward raced through the underbrush, scaling over broken trees and large rocks, not slowing his pace. He had lost Nathaniel's tricorne some time a while back, but he had no time to stop and pick it up. How the lad kept that thing on his head, he'll never understand. It had bobbed along Edward's skull the moment he began running, and when it finally caught a breeze and landed on the ground behind him, he had breathed a humored sigh of relief.

Clutching the small box in his left hand, Edward could not help feeling restricted by the brown coat flapping behind him. He briefly mused how it was a terribly inelegant wrap of leather that did nothing but protect against the rains of Nassau. Edward had decided in this moment that he would never lend his Assassin's robes to anyone else again – no matter how practical the plan was. There was a freedom and a flexibility in his robes that ordinary clothing just could not allow.

Despite his mental complaints about his current clothing, Edward did have to give Nathaniel some credit for this plan of switching outfits. While Abigail had suspected an Assassin's presence, she had no inkling that there was a courier involved as well, and that was how they were able to so easily deceive the Templar pickpocket.

It was the distraction of the poison darts that Edward had used that allowed the plan to function perfectly, as it was nearly impossible to see that the Assassin robes were missing more than half of their equipment in the dark. Edward was able to maintain his full load of equipment and weaponry, strapping it all inventively around the courier clothing. Nathaniel had only retained his cutlass and his dagger that he had been trained in using. No one suspected that it was not Edward in the Assassin outfit, and the two of them had even kept their conspiracy a mystery from Alexander Robinson. The last thing they needed was for Catherine's father to accidentally give something away and cause harm to one of them.

Running up another awkwardly angled palm tree, Edward caught sight of the abandoned fort in the distance. It was the safest place he could think of to have a confrontation with Abigail and any of the Templars she had at her disposal. It was the closest remote location that would ensure Catherine and her father would have enough time to get safely away.

Listening to the rustling of the underbrush in the distance, Edward knew that Abigail was still following him. He needed a few more minutes to reach his destination, and as he jumped over the set of rocks in his way, he saw the underbrush finally give way to the open air of the field that surrounded the fort.

He briefly thought back to the day that his crew had destroyed this citadel, with the _Jackdaw_ reining mortars and cannonballs over the stone fortress. After they had disabled the cannons outside the fort, his crew had run amok inside, and he killed the captain, taking the structure for themselves. Shortly after that, they had departed on other adventures, and the fort had been forgotten by even the island inhabitants. Now, a wiser and more experienced man, Edward was certain he would not have just killed the captain in cold blood, but would have worked out some other arrangement.

Pushing aside the memories, Edward knew he could not get himself side-tracked now. He had a Templar sword master on his trail, and he needed to get inside that fort because he had no idea exactly what would happen when he opened the box with the Ribbon and set his hand upon it.

Springing amidst the debris and rubble that was littered all over the ground, Edward found the ideal alcove and settled himself into it. As he unfastened the box with the Ribbon of Samson, he kept his ears open as he listened for Abigail somewhere in the distance behind him.

The red fabric glowed in the early light of dawn, the golden and silver threads within it sparkling. Edward lifted the Ribbon from the box, its length doubling in size as it unfolded. He felt a tingling in his fingers, as though the power of it was reaching out to him.

Setting the box on the ground, Edward brought the ribbon to the back of his head and tied it around his short ponytail. The tingling he felt in his fingers began prickling at the back of his head, and as he tucked the loose ends into his hair, warmth radiated out to his back and chest. A combination of heat and tingling ran through his arms and legs, and for as much as he wanted to study the power of this fabric more, he heard the footfalls of Abigail's boots as she entered the fort.

"What thief dares to take what is rightfully mine?" Abigail shouted.

Raising his paired cutlasses before him in a defensive stance, Edward exited the alcove and looked to the pickpocket. "I can't help that I'm a pirate, love. Plundering is just what I do."

Abigail stepped further into the fort, finding solid ground and held her sword at the ready. Her voice carried the slightest bit of appreciation in it. "That was a clever ruse, Assassin. You got the Ribbon, and Catherine Robinson lives another day."

Footsteps behind Abigail skittered to a halt, and she angled herself so that she could keep her attention on both the Assassin and the newcomer.

"And, you got yourself an Apprentice," Abigail nodded, as her eyes glanced over the brown-haired man in the Assassin robes. In the light she could now see that she had been cleverly tricked, as the young man carried none of the weapons that were strapped upon the Assassin in the courier's outfit.

"Enough about me, love," Edward said, as he stepped into the open, moving to sturdy ground. He was aware of Nathaniel standing a safe distance from Abigail, his sword and dagger at the ready. "Someone might think you fancy me."

Another skittering of footsteps upon the stone debris of the fort echoed in the open air, and Edward felt the entire plan that he and Nathaniel had devised crumble around him. He should have known that Alexander Robinson's daughter would not take the safe path, especially not when he could see in her eyes that she loved Nathaniel and would prefer to die beside him than await the empty news of his death.

Cursing softly, Edward flexed his fingers over the handles of his cutlasses and glanced briefly as he caught Catherine standing amongst the debris of the war-torn fort. That need he had to keep her safe surged through him, and as the energy of the Ribbon tingled over his body, a new kind of strength filled him, one that told him he was invincible – and he liked the idea of it.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19**_

 **The Turn of Fate**

Nathaniel risked a glance at Catherine, and his heart got caught in an ice storm as he saw her standing on a slab of stone with a sword in her hand and stains of the island greenery smeared into her dress. The plan called for her staying with her father and awaiting his and Kenway's return, but he should have known that Catherine would never sit idly by when someone she cared about was in danger.

Catherine looked around the standoff she had just interrupted, and when Nathaniel's eyes briefly caught hers, the world momentarily shrunk to just the two of them.

"Now I truly understand why you refused the opportunity I offered, Catherine," Abigail said, the tone of disappointment and betrayal evident in her voice. "You did well to hide from me that you had a suitor, especially one who is an Assassin Apprentice. Did he pledge to you that you would share in his adventures?"

Catherine turned to her former mentor, but before she could defend her emotions for Nathaniel, Abigail continued, "I can assure you that his promises are laced with false optimism. He will never let you roam free once you commit to him through marriage, and you will forever be resigned to your small role under his thumb."

Catherine flexed her fingers over the hilt of the sword in her hand. It was heavier and not as elegant as the one she had been accustomed to using, but it would be enough to defend in a fight, and that's all she needed right now. Taking another step, she took a breath and narrowed her sights to her former mentor.

"You mistake kindness and compassion for weapons. You have forgotten what those virtues are, and I lament for who you once were." Catherine's voice softened with a pity she could not hide. "You once were my sword master, my mentor, and my friend, but I cannot follow blindly into a world where you would mold it into a place that would oppress half the population."

Suddenly, Edward understood why Abigail's skirmish with him in the monastery ruins seemed so familiar. He had been exposed to the same techniques earlier that morning when he and Catherine had their sparring match. And, he was struck with an overwhelming regret for Catherine, learning that her former sword master had ambitions of malicious intent.

"I would only be turning the tide of the roles we women had been forced within for millennia," Abigail defended against Catherine's arguments. Raising her sword in a stance of defense, her voice grew cold. "Finally, we would have the power to force men, whether Assassin or Templar, into the lives of pittance. We would no longer take on the secondary roles that we had lived for so long."

Realizing that the world Abigail wanted would establish Nathaniel as an enemy, Catherine could not allow that to happen. Calmly, she defended, "I will not live in a world where one's kindness is enslaved, simply because of a vendetta you hold."

"Spoken like the true Templars of the original Order," came a man's voice that was neither Nathaniel's nor Edward's.

He stepped out of one of the hallways that led to one of the main quarters in the fort. He was in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and dark eyes. He wore a black tunic and pants with a thick, black leather coat that trailed down past his knees. His face was chiseled in angles and symmetry that blessed him with handsome attributes.

Edward took a long breath as he sized up this newcomer, the one he recognized from the brothel in the days after Catherine's purse had been stolen. He was assessing the situation of these two Templars before him now and determining how much of a threat they posed. While no one had suspected yet that he had put the Ribbon to use, he was not about to advertise that fact either. He just hoped that if this came down to a physical brawl that Nathaniel and Catherine would hold their own until he would get to them.

"Order is not necessarily about dominance," the man said, as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "It is about keeping those in line who would do harm. And, I'm disappointed that my trusted pickpocket is so compelled to see to my ruin, simply because of my gender."

Nathaniel quietly shifted his movements, daring to step closer to Catherine. This man in black was the same he had encountered in the alley a few weeks ago, and Nathaniel felt no reason to trust him with Catherine's or any of their safety.

"Miss Catherine Robinson," the man stated as he walked further from the walls of the fort, moving down the steps with a gait that exuded his authority. "I understand you had broken the restrictions we had set upon you, and in the process, you killed a man."

Feeling her heart pounding so hard, she could hear it, Catherine sucked in a heavy breath, but could not find the strength to speak to this man. She was aware that Nathaniel was just within a few feet of her now, and she risked a glance at him, their eyes catching. His presence was enough to renew her courage, and she knew that no matter what happened, they would face it together.

"You accuse _her_ of crimes?" Edward shouted angrily. "Only Templars would see that ensuring the safety of her innocent mother is a crime." Whatever spell Catherine had put upon him was bringing forth a protection for her as though she were his own daughter. "She bloody saved her mother – _her mother_! And, the bastard that you are, can only see that as a crime."

Laughing softly, the man shifted his attention to Edward. "You managed to charm the Assassin, Miss Catherine. And, apparently, the Apprentice as well. See how they are enamored to protect you?"

The man was within just a few steps of Abigail, and he pulled the sword from the sheath at his side. He then turned towards Catherine. "Even your former mentor had fallen under your spell, trying to protect you from your crimes with the promise of power in the empire she wished to reign over."

Nathaniel had managed to maneuver himself so that he was now standing just slightly to Catherine's left. He kept his cutlass and dagger primed in his defensive positions, awaiting the attack that he was certain would come from this powerful Templar.

"But, you resisted the temptation to have that kind of authority, and now you have earned the protection of the Assassin and his Apprentice," the black-clad man said, locking eyes with Catherine for a heartbeat.

Catherine was not certain what she saw in his eyes, but there was something strong about this man. He was brutally honest, his stare alone able to hold her in place, making her feel subdued and subservient. While part of her wanted to scream to break free of his hold, another part of her believed that being under his authority was where she belonged.

Then, the man looked to his sword, seeming to be studying the metal, and in a smooth maneuver, he suddenly twisted his wrist, the sword appearing to glow in the early morning light. The blade moved downward before him effortlessly, and as he lowered himself to one knee, the sword came up behind him in a sleight-of-hand motion, slamming into Abigail's torso before she had a chance to defend herself against his strike.

Catherine was awakened from whatever hold this man had on her, gasping at the unexpected way he had just attacked her mentor, and on instinct, she raised the sword in her hand for defense. She saw Nathaniel grow tense beside her, and she heard Captain Kenway's colorful cursing. Her nerves shook, but she breathed deeply in the way that Elizabeth Talbot – not Abigail Smith – had trained her.

Pulling the bloodied sword forward, the man returned to his full height, and casually looked over his shoulder behind him as he watched Abigail fall, holding her stomach. Her attempts to stop the flow of her crimson blood was useless, as the black-clad Templar's aim was true. She shuddered in her final throes, her body gasping for air she could no longer inhale, and with a final shudder, she lay still.

Edward felt the surge of energy from the Ribbon flow through him, his thoughts solely on protecting Catherine and Nathaniel. Sheathing the cutlasses, Edward ran towards the man and pounced on him with an unnatural strength he had never known. Knocking the dark-clad Templar to the ground with little to no effort, Edward set his hidden blades against the man's throat.

"Aye, mate, twitch one muscle, and I'll split your head from your neck without even trying," Edward promised.

"Intoxicating, isn't it, Assassin?" the man asked, showing no fear of his impending death. Softly, he explained, "The Ribbon gives you strength, but without control, you will eventually succumb to its powers. You'll be nothing more than a slave to it. The Bible doesn't tell the whole truth. Samson had lost control, and he had to be subdued by an accompanying artifact in order to cut the Ribbon off his head when it had entangled itself and fused to his hair. He became power-obsessed and would not let anyone near him for fear of losing the Ribbon and the strength it gave him. It was only through the cunning might of the seductress, Delilah, that the accompanying artifact had been utilized to finally unburden him of the Ribbon."

Edward felt the surge of power tingle once again over him, and his muscles twitched with an energy that he felt compelled to use. Yet, as he looked into this Templar's dark eyes, he could see nothing but the truth swirling in his near-black irises.

"I can see the Robinson daughter has softened you, Assassin, and you want to free her from our restrictions," the Templar acknowledged, keeping his attention narrowed to the man pinning him down. "Know that I have the authority to make all her crimes disappear and allow her a new beginning, but if you kill me, she and her family will remain under Templar vigilance."

A new surge of energy tingled through Edward, and he risked a glance at the young woman who had been at the center of everything surrounding this Ribbon. She had a kindness and a tenderness that had pulled him into her life, and in some way he still did not understand, he had accepted her as his own. Taking in a breath to think clearly, Edward knew that the last thing he wanted for Catherine Robinson was to continue living under Templar control.

"Free her, mate," Edward growled softly, as he brought his eyes back to the man, pulling only one of the blades free of his neck. With the Ribbon still infusing him with inhuman strength, he knew that he just needed to barely put pressure on the other blade against the Templar's neck, and it would sever his head from his body. "Remove your bloody hands from her life and give her freedom."

"You know what I ask in return of this," the Templar said quietly, still not struggling, yet remaining unusually calm. "We already have the accompanying artifact that will annul the effects of the Ribbon. If you keep it, others of the Order will find you and subdue you, and Miss Robinson will never know freedom."

Another rippling tingle of power trickled through Edward's body, as though the Ribbon was confirming the Templar's words and somehow clarifying to him that these promises were not false.

With a sigh, Edward lifted his second hidden blade from the Templar's neck and stood, setting the weapons back in their sheaths. He watched the dark-clad man bring his feet beneath him and return his sword to the sheath at his side. Patiently, the man stood with his hands folded before him.

Edward reached behind his head and pulled at the material of the Ribbon, feeling the spikes of power once again in his fingertips.

"Aye, mate, I never caught your name," Edward muttered.

"A benefactor requires no acknowledgement," he said, glancing his eyes at the young man and young woman standing away from them. "You and I share a similar passion. Unlike many in my Order, I seek to keep these artifacts hidden and protected from those corrupted by power."

Again, Edward's and the Templar's eyes caught, and the Ribbon surged once more, filling Edward with strength and power, seeming to beg him not to let it be released. But, the truth in this dark-eyed Templar's irises about hiding the artifacts and keeping them safe was overwhelming. A heartbeat later, something clicked, and Edward looked down to the red material in his hands, the gold and silver threads dazzling under the morning sunlight.

"You're the one who's arranged to have it hidden all along, mate," Edward realized, examining the Ribbon one last time, somehow knowing he would only have this one opportunity in his life to study it.

"Clever insight," the Templar smiled as he brought forth an empty wooden box from within his coat, the box not unlike the one used to transport the Ribbon to Alexander Robinson. Opening it, the man watched the Assassin place the Ribbon inside. "The deceptions were necessary to expose Abigail as a corrupt and power-driven zealot and reveal her true intentions. I believe in the old Templar philosophies, the ones long-abandoned after greed and corruption overtook the Order. Sadly, there are few of us uncorrupted Templars left, and we must remain anonymous in our pursuits."

Edward thought about that for a long moment, wondering if unity between these Templar purists and the Assassins would be possible. He thought for certain that there had to be a way to maintain order but still allow for personal freedoms.

The Templar smiled warmly for a moment. "The peace you are considering has been tried before – unsuccessfully – I'm afraid. Perhaps one day it will exist. Until then, I offer the olive branch for your cooperation that I promised. A letter will arrive at the Robinson household within two weeks, embossed with a Templar seal. That letter will release the Robinson family from our interference."

Closing the box, the Templar turned from Edward but addressed his words over his shoulder at him. "A word of advice, Assassin: Keep your instincts wary. You would be wise to understand that not all friends are sincere and not all enemies are corrupt. This I know from personal experience. Now, please take these children home. They should never have been burdened to know a life pervaded by the troubles and battles you and I are committed to endure."

 **A Final Farewell**

Eight days had passed after the ordeal with the Ribbon of Samson and its return to Templar hands. Before they left the fort, Catherine took some time to pay her respects to Abigail Smith – or more preferably Elizabeth Talbot. Afterwards, Captain Kenway and Nathaniel had wrapped her body in some old fabrics before laying it on a stone slab and having the body cremated.

Catherine and Nathaniel had a multitude of questions that they asked Captain Kenway upon leaving the fort, and he had patiently answered them. He also explained what happened with the mysterious dark-clad Templar and how sparing him would ensure that Catherine's family would be freed from Templar control.

Catherine had brought up her sensations of being restrained by the Templar while she stood facing him and that she was unable to break free from his hold. Edward explained that it was most likely due to an artifact that the Templar had upon his person, and whatever that artifact was, it needed to be kept even further protected from the corrupted Templars than the Ribbon of Samson did.

Nathaniel and Catherine had also expressed their skepticism of the Templar's honesty, but Edward was certain about the man's intentions. Something about the way the Ribbon tingled through him offered a clarity that he had never known before. While he felt an incredible wave of physical strength and felt mightier than his own _Jackdaw_ , he could not deny the truth that he saw in the Templar's eyes. He would have succumbed to the Ribbon's power, and he would have used that strength for selfish purposes, giving into the seductive influence of invincibility that the Ribbon offered. He only hoped that the Templar was able to hide the Ribbon as well, or better, than the Assassins would have.

In the span of the past eight days, Captain Robert Jordan took over command of _Mother's Pearl_ again, and his departure was of an honest nature to bring sugar cane to a port in America. From the brief sighting that Edward had of the man, he saw a hardened captain who ran a tough ship and expected nothing less than excellence from his crew. His mannerisms and features were entirely unlike the mysterious Templar, and Edward had to presume that the dark-clad Templar had used whatever hidden artifact he had against Jordan to keep him subdued to his plans. Whatever the Templar's artifact was had ensured that the Ribbon of Samson had not been pirated and sold and that Jordan had not been tempted to use it for himself.

Nathaniel had returned to his tasks of being Alexander's courier, and occasionally Edward would catch sight of the young lad scaling buildings and racing across rooftops, escaping the crowded streets below. Edward suspected that while Nathaniel felt the blood in his veins of an Assassin, it was just not in his heart to be one. He was content in his simple life, knowing that he would be able to protect Catherine with the skills Edward had taught him, despite how little protection she would need once the letter that the mysterious Templar promised would arrive.

Catherine had taken a few mornings after sunrise to maintain Martha's grave, usually leaving fresh flowers on the overturned plot of land where her body was buried. The remainder of Catherine's days were spent in her father's employ, where he gave her ship journals to review and business transactions to prepare. In the evenings, she and Nathaniel were often together on her family's property, where Edward suspected her father kept watch on their activities, ensuring that Catherine was not developing a promiscuous reputation.

Edward had distanced himself from the Robinsons as much as he could during the past week, giving them time to heal and return to normalcy. Occasionally, he would pass by the property, just to ensure that Catherine was doing well and to offer his respects to Martha's grave.

Yesterday, however, Edward had received the first news of the ongoing search for the Sage and the Observatory, and he had no doubts that the timing of their surfacing had to do with the mysterious Templar.

Rounding the trees that would bring him to the Robinson home, Edward heard the clash of metal blades in the yard. Fearing suddenly that the anonymous Templar did not follow through with his promise and that Nathaniel or Catherine were engaged in a conflict, Edward hurried into the yard. As he ran, the scraping metal grew in intensity, and then it was a volley of clattering and clanging, as the battle kept building.

Finally passing beneath the garden arch, Edward stopped short, just missing a sword slicing past his arm by inches. As he watched the assailants in their skirmish, he ducked out of the way and found himself cornered by a tree near the archway where he leaned against the trunk and folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to see just what the man who was his short-term apprentice had to offer his opponent, and he hoped that he would not have to intervene.

Nathaniel brought his cutlass around again, his blade landing against the sword that was aimed at his shoulder. He raised the dagger to block the follow-up attack, and then he pushed forward with an offense of his own. He still felt clumsy at times, but he would not give up the fight, and when his attack was met with a defensive blockade, he knew that it was time to change tactics.

Nathaniel took the momentary break while he had it to step back and regroup, catching his breath. He flexed his fingers along the cutlass and the dagger, watching and waiting. He just needed his opponent to step within the imaginary box, and then he would have the element of surprise. He counted the heartbeats, watching each step forward, and saw the opening he needed on the right. His opponent's sword dropped just a fraction, and he knew his moment had come.

With the dagger in his left hand, he pushed the sword aimed at him away from both he and his attacker. Then in a risky, fluid maneuver – one that he had modified after Captain Kenway had taught it to him – Nathaniel dropped his cutlass, and brought his leg behind hers, catching her waist in his hand, and pulling her against him to prevent her from landing on the ground.

"You cheated," Catherine protested softly, as she was forced to drop her sword to hold onto him to keep from falling backwards.

Nathaniel let the dagger fall to the ground and brought his other arm around her, pulling her closer against him. "You gave away your attack."

Catherine inched closer and couldn't help the smile on her face. "Did I?"

Nathaniel felt the edge of the small knife against his ribs, and he wondered just where in her yellow dress she had hidden it. She was again in her usual pattern of clothing, with the longer sleeves and the more modest neckline, and as he thought about it, he realized that she could have hidden the knife anywhere within the fabric.

"Now, you're cheating," he whispered, drawn to the kindness in her eyes that told him she would never bring harm to him.

"It's not cheating if you're prepared," she teased. "You're not the first to try that maneuver on me, and I needed to develop some kind of counter-attack for it."

"So, this was a test of your new technique," Nathaniel confirmed softly.

"You passed," she smiled as she removed the knife from his ribs and let it fall to the ground. A heartbeat later, she leaned into him and pressed her lips on his.

Feeling helpless to the attraction he had for her, Nathaniel returned the kiss and pulled her closer, still in awe that he had managed to earn her affections and her father's acceptance.

Edward couldn't help the smile that crept over his face at the sight of how content Catherine and Nathaniel were in each other's company.

"I haven't seen her this happy since the day I told her she could take fencing lessons," Alexander stated softly as he looked to the Assassin. "Are you sure she does not have Assassin lineage? Perhaps it comes from her mother's side?"

Laughing for a brief moment, Edward shook his head as he remained against the tree in the yard. "Aye, mate, I have tried more than once to see it in her, but she does not carry the blood. She is just adventurous and spirited. Speaking of her mother, Madame Sarah should be returning to your care in a couple weeks."

Bringing a piece of parchment forward, Alexander breathed in what sounded like relief. "You have my most humbled gratitude. This came today, and I understand you are responsible for its cause."

Edward took the offered document and read it carefully.

 _Esteemed Master Robinson,_

 _For over a year your family had been falsely accused of crimes against the Templars. New evidence had come forth that has proven these accusations unjustified in the case against your youngest daughter, Catherine. Those who had wronged your family have been reprimanded and removed from their positions, and your family may resume a life of normalcy and prosperity._

 _Live in peace but be wary of who you cross, for not all men are honorable._

 _Fare thee well,  
A Benefactor of Prominent Means_

"She ran to get her sword the moment she finished reading it," Alexander sighed. "They have been out here for at least twenty minutes."

"Aye, he'll keep her safe, mate," Edward acknowledged as he handed the letter back. "Nathaniel's skills were not meant for the Brotherhood but instead for your daughter. I don't much believe in destiny, but those two are meant for each other."

Alexander folded the letter again along its creases and grew somber for a moment, ensuring he had Captain Kenway's undivided attention as he spoke. "This life was never my intention for her. Catherine was supposed to follow in her sisters' footsteps and live a pampered existence under a prosperous husband's care. Instead, I indulged in her requests, and by doing so, I doomed her to a life of conflict. She was a pawn for the Templars and now she has become a friend of the Assassins. Had I done as I should have and denied Catherine those fencing lessons, she would be quietly living a life where she and her sisters share in their children's rearing. Instead, I must live every day fearful of the dangers she will get herself into and know that it was I who had nullified my ability to keep her safe the moment I surrendered to her demands."

Softly, Alexander stressed his words. "If you ever have a daughter, Captain, protect her fiercely as a father should, for the moment you don't, you will lose her. And, never indulge in her whims because she will break you to your very core."

While Edward was absorbing Alexander's words, the older man quietly disappeared back into the house. Footsteps settled in by him, and he brought his eyes to see both Nathaniel and Catherine awaiting his attention.

"Aye," he smiled, stowing Alexander's words away for another time. He would worry about children when the time came. For now, he had other priorities and then he would return to Caroline to reconcile with her.

"I saw my father showed you the letter that the Templar promised would arrive," Catherine smiled. Then, she leaned forward and brought her arms around him, being careful to not entangle herself in his weaponry as she gently hugged the pirate that she had never imagined she would befriend. With a soft and sincere voice, she said, "Thank you, Captain."

Feeling a wave of shyness that Edward knew was entirely uncharacteristic for him, he cautiously returned her embrace. But, after a brief moment, he surrendered to her and held her protectively, with a strength he had never offered to anyone else before. While he found it difficult for a long moment to let her go, he realized that Alexander's words were already taking their toll on him, and he could not fall into that kind of weakness just yet.

Quietly, he teased, "Easy, love, or someone will think I've gone soft."

Releasing him, Catherine stepped back and pushed down the tightness in her throat. She could see in Captain Kenway's eyes the true reason for his visit, and for some reason she didn't quite understand, she felt saddened about it. "You came here to say goodbye."

"Is it so obvious, love?" Edward asked softly.

Nathaniel put a hand around Catherine's waist and felt his own disappointment over the departure of the pirate that he had once hated but now considered a mentor and friend. "You received that information about the Sage and the Observatory that you were seeking when I first met you."

"Aye, lad, I'll be sailing out first thing on the morrow," Edward confirmed. "I have a good idea of the answer, but I have to ask if you'd be looking to join me."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the sea isn't for me, and I realized I don't have the same conviction for being an Assassin that you or my grandmother did. I've found my contentment here."

Smiling in his knowing way, Edward passed his eyes between the two. "Maybe the wind will blow me in the right direction the day of your wedding. I know you'll keep each other safe. And, as I informed your father, Madame Sarah will be returning to you in a few weeks. I had sent word to my men to prepare her for her journey home."

Catherine could not help herself this time, and as she leaned on him, she brought herself upwards on her toes, pressing her lips to his rough cheek for a heartbeat of time. When she settled back on the ground appropriately, her words were filled with kindness, her tone gentle and caring.

"I'll always remember you as a mentor, Captain, and I hope one day happiness will find its way into your life."

Smiling quietly, Edward turned from them and brought the hood over his head as he walked into the golden glow of sunset. His chest felt heavy in a way he did not understand, and as he ached for Caroline, his throat grew tight. In the blur of his eyes, he could see the ghost of who he and Caroline had once been in Nathaniel and Catherine, and he prayed this business of the Sage and the Observatory would end quickly. Catherine Robinson had weakened him in some way he wasn't entirely sure he was against, but she had also strengthened him in another. And, as he took in a heavy breath of the salted, Caribbean air, all Edward wanted was to go home to be with his wife as the better man he had become and the father that he longed to be.


	20. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

 **Surrendered Ambition**

"But, Father, I don't understand!" Jennifer Scott was furious, and her eyes blazed in a way that was so very reminiscent of her mother, Caroline.

Edward leaned back against the chair and took a tiring breath, knowing that it was a fruitless gesture to return to the correspondence on the desk before him. These arguments with Jennifer had started after she discovered his Assassin past, and they had only grown in intensity every time she broached the subject with him. Now that she was sixteen, she had become much more emboldened in her arguments, speaking in the manner of an adult rather than a spoiled child not getting her way.

Briefly, Edward distracted himself by wondering just how long they had been arguing now, and as his eyes caught a flash of the clock, he saw that this battle had been engaged for nearly fifteen minutes. Certainly, it was the longest disagreement they had ever shared, and he feared as she grew older the fights would grow in intensity. She wanted to expand her wings and grow, and for reasons he refused to share with her, he had kept her wings clipped, confining her to her metaphorical cage.

"There is nothing for you to understand, love," Edward stated as calmly as his frustrations would allow. "Your safety is my priority, and I will not bring you into a life of battle and death."

Jennifer turned away from him, and her blue dress spun with the movement. Her long curls covered her back, floating with her movements, and there was a grace and elegance in her positional shift. Edward could not help but see how small her form appeared as she stood in the great room, her hands knotted into fists at her sides. Whatever fire that burned within her did not settle, and when she took a breath, he hoped it was to calm down. Unfortunately, that breath was to renew her anger instead. When she turned back to him, there was no mistaking the absolute pure agony in her irises.

"But, being able to protect myself will keep me safe," Jennifer reasoned with a cold tone. "Why should I depend on a man for my care?"

"Because you are my daughter, and I won't have you disfigured, or worse, killed," he shot back, forcing aside the image of a young Catherine Robinson and the scars upon her body that she needed to keep hidden from the world.

Jennifer shook her head and refused to give up the discord between them. "So, this has nothing to do with me protecting myself, does it? This is so I can remain your pristine, little daughter who every man in town fawns over so you can puff out your chest like a proud peacock. This is so you can boast about how you had your say as to who the perfect husband was for me and not give me a chance to become who I am meant to be."

Edward breathed tiredly, his intentions for her safety being entirely misconstrued. "You don't understand…"

"Damn right, I don't understand!" she shouted.

Standing up and feeling that anger just on the edge of snapping, Edward could not control his voice as he shouted in a way he never had before. "You will _never_ use such language, do you understand, Jenny? You are a proper young woman, and you will remain as such."

Unintimidated, Jennifer kept her speech perfected with sarcastic pronunciation as she raised her chin. "Aye. Aye. Captain."

Edward slammed his fist onto the desk, realizing that his daughter knew exactly how to stir his anger in a way that no one else in his entire existence really had. She was far too much like himself, her charisma drawing others in when necessary and her blunt sarcasm rubbing against raw wounds that only festered the sores beneath.

"Enough!" he shouted. "I have my reasons for wanting you safe and protected, and I will not – under any circumstance – change my mind about your role in this society. We have been away from the lawless Caribbean for years, and I expect civility of you, not pirating around the streets of London."

Jennifer nodded now, as a realization dawned upon her angelic face, despite the wave of ire that radiated off her. With a strained voice, her words simmered, just waiting to release another explosion of fury. "So that's your fear, is it? You're worried I'll follow in dear, old father's footsteps and become his little pirate. This has nothing to do with the Assassins and their cause. This is because you don't want me to become you."

Stepping towards the desk and setting her hands on it, Jennifer leaned forward, her eyes piercing into her father. She had no fear of Edward Kenway, Assassin and former pirate captain of the _Jackdaw_. Where other men would reconsider their words or their actions under this man's kettle of over-boiling fury, Jennifer was not one to yield to her father's wrath.

Her words were smooth as velvet despite the dangerous flag of surrender that waved between them. "I assure you, Father, I will _never_ become you."

Then, in a blur of fabric, Jennifer disappeared from Edward's study, and as her soft perfume lingered, it was the only reminder that she had been there.

Edward fell back into his chair and rubbed his hands against his face, feeling the roughness of his callused palms brush over the scars that lined his skin. When he brought his hands before him and looked at the mess they were, he could not help his thoughts returning to the young woman he had adopted for those few, short weeks during one of his many visits to Nassau.

An uneasy smile came across his face at the memory of Catherine Robinson and the night he stitched up that wound on her arm. She had told him about how she had been her mother's little pirate from the time she was young, and Edward did not want the same of Jenny. Even though he was certain Jenny could handle an injury with the same tact as Catherine, it was the thought of seeing his daughter – his last link to Caroline – blemished in any regard.

But, it was also more than seeing an injured and blemished Jenny that stopped Edward. He feared if he indulged in Jenny's whims, she would entangle herself similarly to the Templars like Catherine had, and right now Edward was working on a peaceful alliance. The last thing he needed was to reignite the war, and he knew that the fire that burned within Jenny would be certain to do just that. His daughter was consumed with a need to do right, and she would be certain to find way to justify the need she had to eradicate Templars who were not seeking a world in which the Assassins were allied with them.

Suddenly, Edward was overwhelmed with the fear that he was doing everything wrong with Jenny, but whenever he thought about bringing her into the Assassin world, Alexander Robinson's haunting words would echo in his memories. _If you ever have a daughter, Captain, protect her fiercely as a father should, for the moment you don't, you will lose her. And, never indulge in her whims because she will break you to your very core._

Edward saw the broken man that Alexander Robinson had become under Catherine's ordeals, and he swore that the moment he met Jenny that he would not allow his daughter to break him as Catherine had done with Alexander. He understood now why Alexander had given in to his daughter, but Edward was a stubborn man who survived the life of a pirate and became an Assassin, rising up to become a respectable member of the Brotherhood and eventual master Assassin of Britain. He could not allow the whims of his daughter to break him, and he would die doing everything he could to keep her safe – regardless if it strained their relationship for a short time or the rest of their lives. One day, he was certain Jenny would understand, but until then, he would not cave in like Alexander Robinson had and lose his last link to purity in this world. Keeping Jenny safe was the only way he could keep himself from suffering the same heartbreak that Alexander Robinson had experienced.


End file.
